


Love is Just Another Diagnosis

by Ethereal_Extraterrestrail



Category: A Plague Tale: Innocence (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Quidditch, Self-Indulgent, it's pretty gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Extraterrestrail/pseuds/Ethereal_Extraterrestrail
Summary: Arthur and Mélie stood up, and right before Mélie left, she turned towards Amicia. “I didn’t catch your name.”“I didn’t throw it,” Amicia responded coolly.“Well, I’m Mélie. Mélie Cappon.”She turned to leave, but before she could, Amicia told her, “It’s Amicia. Amicia de Rune.”“Nice to meet you, Amicia,” Mélie offered her a short and quick bow before sliding the compartment shut with a thud.---The Plague Tale characters but at Hogwarts. This is really just a self-indulgent fic, but if someone happens to like it, great!
Relationships: Melie/Amicia de Rune
Comments: 61
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

Amicia knelt down beside Hugo, wrapping him into a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you, buddy,” she whispered just loud enough to be heard above the sound of the train engine and the chaos around them. He sniveled into her shoulder and mumbled his goodbyes as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Amicia released him and stood up as Robert warned her that it was quickly approaching 11:00. “Don’t wanna miss the train,” he joked, handing Amicia her suitcase. With tears in the corners of his eyes, he told her, “I love you so much. We’re gonna miss you.”

Béatrice placed her hand on Amicia’s shoulder and added, “Write every day, and we will send you lots of packages and owls.”

“I will, and I will see you at Christmas,” Amicia promised. She gave them both a quick hug before climbing aboard the train, not a moment too soon. As she sat down in an empty compartment, the train lurched forward.

Two boys stumbled into the compartment a moment later. 

“Can we sit here?” the shorter one asked, gripping the frame to keep himself from falling. Amicia nodded and the two took their seats across from her.

“I’m Lucas, and this is Rodric,” the same boy added, offering her his hand.

Amicia took it and smiled. “I’m Amicia.”

Rodric extended his hand and she took it as well. “That’s an interesting name. I’ve never seen you before. What house are you in?”

“Oh,” Amicia let out, “I don’t know, actually.” When the two boys raised their eyebrows, she added quickly, “I am a transfer student from Beauxbatons.”

“That school in France?” Rodric questioned.

“Yes.”

“My mother went there!” Lucas exclaimed, setting his bag under his seat. “Lovely school, isn’t it?” When Amicia nodded he asked, “Why did you transfer?”

Amicia shrugged and answered lamely, “My parents wanted me to.”

“But why?” Rodric probed. 

Amicia sighed but explained, “They want my little brother to go here, so they transferred me so I could test the waters and such.”

“Wow, that kinda sucks,” Rodric murmured, looking genuinely sympathetic. “That you have to start over after... How many years?”

“Five.”

“That you have to start over and make new friends after five years,” Rodric finished, “He must be something pretty special.”

Lucas nodded in agreement and Amicia sighed with a hint of resentment, “He is pretty important to them.”

The two could hear the hidden message behind that and mumbled apologies. Lucas asked after a moment of stilted silence, “I’m assuming you’re a fifth-year?” 

“Yes,” Amicia shifted in her seat, picking at the fabric on the cushion. “Sorry, I’m just nervous.”

“We can give you a quick rundown if you’d like,” Lucas offered. 

Amicia nodded enthusiastically and Lucas began, “There are four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff.”

Rodric pointed to the crest on his robes, “I am a Hufflepuff. And he,” Rodric placed his hand on a slightly uncomfortable looking Lucas, “is a Ravenclaw. Ravenclaws are very smart.”

“There are stereotypes about the students in the different houses, but please keep in mind they are stereotypes and nothing more,” Lucas advised sullenly.

“They’re usually true,” Rodric chuckled, “Like how Ravenclaw is full of nerds, and look at Lucas here,” he jabbed Lucas’s side and laughed. 

“And Hufflepuffs are often kind and loyal,” Lucas smiled at Rodric, “So I suppose he fits the stereotype pretty well.”

“What about the other two?” Amicia asked, suddenly quite curious. 

“Slytherins are stuck up purebloods, and Gryffindors are obnoxious, rude troublemakers,” Rodric stated firmly. Lucas opened his mouth to argue, but Rodric hushed him before he could even begin. “You know it’s true Lucas, especially about the Gryffindors. Just look at the Cappons.”

Amicia leaned forward in her seat, curious, “Who are the Cappons?” 

“Arthur and Mélie. They’re twins,” Lucas informed her. “They are troublemakers, but the whole house isn’t like that.” 

“Yes, but the whole house likes them,” Rodric grumbled with an eye roll. “That should say something about Gryffindor as a whole.” 

Before Lucas could argue, a burst of screams echoed through the train cart, followed by a puff of black smoke. 

“The hell is that?” Rodric coughed as the black pooled into the compartment.

“Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” Lucas gasped, his eyes watering as black swirled around them. 

“That stuff wasn’t allowed at Beauxbatons,” Amicia protested, finding it increasingly hard to see the boys. 

“It’s not allowed here either,” Lucas coughed, waving his hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air. 

Amicia could hear the compartment door slide open, and through the blackness, she could make out two figures. 

“Lucas, Rodric, where are you two going?” Amicia asked, tears pricking in her eyes as the smoke flooded into the now open compartment. 

“We’re still right here,” the two of them answered across from her. Amicia felt the cushions on either side of her squish as two people sat down, sandwiching her. 

“Hold on, I’m opening the window,” Lucas began, and she could hear the window click and slide open. The smoke cleared slightly, and Amicia could make out an unfamiliar boy and girl sitting next to her. 

“The heck!” Amicia yelped, jumping out of her seat. They pulled her back down by her arms, and the girl covered Amicia’s mouth with her hand. 

As the air cleared, Amicia could see the two of them better. They both had red hair and similar features, and they were already in uniform, although they were rumpled and disheveled, giving off an ‘I don’t give a damn about uniforms’ vibe. Their scarlet ties with small gold stripes were loose around their necks, and Amicia could tell that not much effort had been put into putting them on. Unlike the girls Amicia had seen in uniform already, the girl was wearing black trousers like the boys, not a skirt. 

“If anyone comes in here, we were here the whole time,” the boy ordered quickly. The girl, presumably his sister, nodded and removed her hand from Amicia’s mouth. 

“We’re not helping you, Cappons,” Rodric stated, his lips pressed together in a firm line.

“Just this once,” he begged, clasping his hands together, “ _Please_.” 

“It’s fine, Baker,” the girl rolled her eyes, “Just don’t say anything, and you will be considered innocent bystanders.”

When neither of them refused this suggestion, he gushed, “Thank you!” A moment later the conductor ran past and did a double-take in front of their compartment.

His hair was ruffled, and he appeared to be quite distressed, “Do you know who threw that vanishing power?” he interrogated, looking at the twins suspiciously. 

“No,” the girl shrugged, feigning innocence. “We’ve been with them the whole time.”

The conductor looked to Lucas and Rodric, and when they were unresponsive, Amicia gave the man a small nod. “They’ve been here,” she whispered. The conductor nodded, and left, shutting the door behind him. 

The five of them heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” she smiled smugly, “We appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Amicia decided. 

“Well, we should get going,” he grinned, offering Amicia a mock salute. “Thanks.”

The twins stood up, and right before the girl left, she turned towards Amicia. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it,” Amicia responded coolly.

“Well, I’m Mélie. Mélie Cappon.”

She turned to leave, but before she could, Amicia told her, “It’s Amicia. Amicia de Rune.”

“Nice to meet you, Amicia,” Mélie offered her a short and quick bow before sliding the compartment shut with a thud.

\--

When the students filed out of the rain and into the school, Amicia was quickly pulled aside by an older looking woman with long, black hair.

“Amicia de Rune?” Amicia nodded and the woman continued, “I am Professor Robinson. This is your first year here at Hogwarts, although you are a fifth-year, correct?” Amicia nodded again and she instructed, “Well then, go along with the first-years, you’ll be sorted into your house along with them.” 

Amicia allowed herself to be blindly led to the first years, all of whom were giggling nervously and whispering amongst themselves. When they walked into the great hall, she noticed all of the other students were already seated. She was able to spot Rodric in the crowd, but not Lucas. He was hard to miss, seeing as he seemed to be a foot taller than all of them.

Her cheeks burned as she felt the student’s curious gazes boring into her back. Amicia felt extremely out of place, and for the first time in forever, she wished she was even shorter than she already was. 

They came to a stop at the front of the room and she watched in awe as Professor Robinson called a student up to sit on a stool and have a hat placed on their head. It was frayed, dirty, and battered. Amicia silently prayed that she would not have to wear it, for fear of catching some terrible disease. 

It was silent for a moment until the hat began to move, and Amicia stifled a gasp as she made out a face. The _thing_ moved and then went still before exclaiming loudly, “Hufflepuff!” The room burst into applause and the student went to sit down at the table Rodric was at. 

She waited in a mix of confusion and excitement as others were called to be sorted, in alphabetical order. _Thomas Brown. Lily Damson_ . Amicia waited in anticipation, realizing she would likely be next. _Tabitha Fairclough._

 _Odd_ , Amicia couldn’t help but think. _Perhaps there was a mix-up, or I will go with people with R surnames._

But when they got to R, she was skipped yet again. The room suddenly felt far too hot, and all too soon, she was the only student still standing. 

“Amicia de Rune,” Professor Robinson finally called. “My apologies, you were not on the list with the first years,” she whispered.

Amicia nodded and swallowed, relief washing over her. She sat on the stool, feeling as the hat was placed on her head. She stiffened as the room fell silent. After a moment, the hat proclaimed, “Ravenclaw!” 

The room burst into loud applause, and Amicia stood, placing the hat on the stool. Lucas jumped up and waved her over. She ran up to him and sat beside him, grinning from ear to ear. 

“You’re a Ravenclaw!” he exclaimed, patting her back. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Amicia grinned. “I would have been happy with Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff because of you and Rodric.”

“Thank you,” Lucas smiled sincerely, “You’re going to love this. We can study together, eat together, and we will have classes together. And even though Rodric is in a different house, we make it work each year.”

“Perfect,” Amicia breathed. “I feel at home already.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why hello again. I am back. When I first started I was like, "Imma post once a week, maybe even twice!" I think I've come a long way since then... and not in a good way. Welp, I hope you enjoy!

Amicia looked down at her schedule; her eight courses were split over two days. Lucas had insisted they compare classes before they went to bed, so she sat in the Ravenclaw common room in her pink pajamas, trying to read the parchment by the flickering firelight. 

“Lumos maxima,” Lucas murmured, casting a bright glow from the tip of his wand. Amicia squinted her eyes, adjusting to the light. 

“It says I have transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, charms, herbology, arithmancy, astronomy, potions, history of magic, and care of magical creatures, in that order,” Amicia listed. _Similar courses to those at Beauxbatons_ , she silently noted.

Without even looking at his own paper, Lucas responded, “We have transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, herbology, arithmancy, astronomy, potions, and care of magical creatures together,” he took a deep breath and continued, “Rodric and I already compared schedules, and we will have astronomy and care of magical creatures with him.”

Amicia stared at him with an arched eyebrow. “Did you memorize all of that?”

“Well, yeah.”

Amicia swallowed and scanned her list again. “So I will have… Charms, and… History of magic alone,” she let out, already worrying.

Lucas nodded. “Well, not alone,” he corrected, “just not with Rodric or I.” 

\---

Defense against the dark arts proved to be problematic for Amicia. “This teacher is new,” Lucas murmured. 

The teacher heard him and nodded eagerly. “I’m Professor Fernsby. Tell me your names and I’ll tell you where you are sitting."

Amicia groaned internally. _Assigned seats on the first day?_ She gave her name to the professor who seated her near the window, overlooking the lake. The seat next to hers remained empty even though almost all of the others were filled. Lucas was on the opposite end of the room as her, so he gave her a small wave and a sad smile. She waved back and placed her bookbag on the empty chair next to her.

After everyone had found their seats, Professor Fernsby clapped her hands together, gathering their attention. She appeared to be very young, likely in her late twenties. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her bangs framed her face. She wore an eager grin and waved her hands restlessly as she spoke. 

“I am here to help you guys learn to defend yourself against the dark arts, and pass your OWLs. I expect you all to do what helps you learn the best,” she clapped her hands together again, this time out of sheer excitement. “Which means, study the way you want to. I won’t assign much homework, and we will be doing as many hands-on activities as possible, so look forward to those!” 

Amicia smiled. She could tell she was going to like this class. Professor Fernsby finished her introduction and immediately got them to work. “The sooner we get through note-taking, the sooner we can begin activities!” she encouraged. 

Twenty minutes into class, the door opened, and Mélie and Arthur strolled in. “Late on the first day, Mr. and Miss-” she hesitated, waiting for their names. 

“Cappon,” Arthur told her. “I’m Arthur, this is Mélie.” 

“Sorry, professor,” Mélie smirked at the new teacher.

“We got a little lost,” Arthur finished. 

Professor Fernsby rolled her eyes with a small smile and pointed to a seat in the front. “Arthur, you’re sitting here, and Mélie,” the professor pointed to the only other empty seat in the class, “you’re sitting there.”

Arthur took his seat and Mélie protested with a small smile, “Aww, really gonna separate us on the first day?”

“Yes, Miss. Cappon. Now take your seat.” 

Amicia slid her bag off of the chair and Mélie slipped into the seat beside her. The professor began describing ghouls and where they lived. _Relatively harmless creatures but are often seen as nuisances due to the amount of noise they make_ , Amicia wrote. 

“You’re Amicia, right?” Mélie hissed. Amicia paused, looking up at the girl. She hadn’t bothered to get out a piece of parchment and was brushing the tip of her quill against her lips.

“Yes,” Amicia quickly responded. She was not in the mood to talk, especially not to Mélie. Rodric seemed to despise the twins, and he likely had a good reason. She trusted his judgment. _Relatively dimwitted, and live off of bugs and other household pests._

“Nice handwriting,” Mélie remarked, having yet to take a single note. 

“Thanks.” _At most, they will groan and throw objects-_

“I saw you get sorted into Ravenclaw. I was personally expecting you to be a Gryffindor after meeting you on the train, but I suppose-”

“Are you even listening?” Amicia hissed, cutting Mélie off mid-sentence.

“They’re harmless and just make noises, I get it,” Mélie groaned, leaning back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Can we just skip to learning spells?”

“Miss. Cappon, Miss. de Rune,” Professor Fernsby turned around, “as enjoyable as it is for me to listen to you two flirt, I have a class to teach,” she teased, her eyes gleaming wickedly. 

Amicia blushed and pushed her chair further away from Mélie’s. She started to let out a protest, maybe even explain how it was not her fault, it was Mélie’s, but decided against it, opting to remain silent. Mélie seemed unfazed and only smiled, likely due to the fact she seemed to be in constant trouble. 

Amicia kept her head up just long enough to see Lucas give her a sympathetic smile. She shrugged before burying herself back in her notes. 

The two didn’t talk for the rest of the class.

\---

“Amicia, can I talk to you?” Lucas looked at her pleadingly, and Amicia put down her fork. Maybe it was how wide his eyes were, or maybe it was how he seemed to struggle to even breathe, but Amicia was instantly worried, and one look at Rodric confirmed that he was worried as well. 

“Of course, Lucas. What’s up?”

“Okay, so,” he struggled, taking a deep breath as he sat down. “Fourth period, when you have charms, I have that class with Emilia. She _spoke_ to me today.”

“Okay, and?”

He tapped his fingers against the table anxiously, and Rodric quickly supplied, “He’s kinda had a thing for her since our second year here.”

“Kinda?” Lucas huffed. “I really like her, but I am not even certain if she knows I exist.”

“What do you need me for?” Amicia asked. Should she put in a good word for Lucas? No, she didn’t even know who Emilia was.

“Well, it would be great if we could sit by them at lunch or something,” Lucas suggested weakly. “So maybe you could get us in with their group?”

Amicia laughed. When she saw how his face fell she quickly stopped. “Why would I be able to get us in with their group?”

Lucas leaned forward seriously and whispered, “People like you, Amicia.”

“What?” she shook her head firmly, trying not to laugh again. “I haven’t even been here for a week. It’s only Thursday, people don’t even know my _name_.”

“No, Lucas is right,” Rodric corroborated. “I’ve heard plenty of people say stuff about you.”

“Like what?” What could people who have known her for a few days possibly be saying about her? 

“I dunno,” Rodric gave her an exasperated shrug. “I heard some guys say you’re pretty, and a few people asked me why you transferred here.”

“What? Who? Why would anyone care about me?” Amicia interrogated, not caring that he likely didn’t know the answers either.

“Amica,” Lucas looked at her and then back down at his plate. “You have… a pleasant face… and all that,” he stumbled over his words.

“So?”

“So,” Rodric laughed, “certain boys and…” he hesitated before deciding, “and certain _girls_ are going to take special interest in you.” 

“Oh,” Amicia let out. Strange, wasn’t it? Someone could care about her just because she had a pleasant face. “Who does Emilia even sit with?”

“She’s a Gryffindor,” Lucas informed her, “and she sits with Chloe, Oliver, Annie, Jean, and…” he stopped, looking at Rodric shamefully. 

“And the _Cappons_ ,” Rodric finished bitterly. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Lucas looked at them both so pleadingly, and Amicia immediately gave in. Whenever Hugo gave her a similar look, she dropped almost everything for him, and it appeared to work on Rodric as well.

“It’ll be worth it for you,” Rodric smiled down at Lucas. 

“So will you help?” 

“But _how_?” Amicia felt helpless. She couldn’t just go up to them and ask to sit by them. Well, she _could_ , but something stopped her. 

“Jean was the one who was asking about you,” Rodric informed her with an eyebrow waggle. “And he’s not bad looking, either.”

“You want me to flirt our way in there?” Amicia snorted. When neither Rodric nor Lucas cracked a smile she did a double-take. “You’re serious?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“He sits by me in charms,” Amicia realized slowly. “I guess-”

“Thank you!” Lucas gushed. “You will not regret this!” 

Amicia knew she was going to regret this. 

\---

Amicia didn’t even have to approach Jean; he approached her. She was sitting in the garden, writing a letter to her parents. It was quiet, as Lucas and Rodric had not joined her. So, she was slightly startled when she heard a quiet ‘ahem’ and saw a converse by her bag. Amicia looked up. Jean was staring down at her, a small smile on his face.

“Oh, hey, Jean,” Amicia smiled. “I hope you weren’t standing there for too long.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t.” He moved her bag aside and sat down next to her. “Studying, I presume?” Jean laughed, and when Amicia merely quirked an eyebrow, he quickly explained, “Cuz you’re a Ravenclaw. Ya know?”

Amicia forced an awkward chuckle that only lasted a moment. “How are you?” she finally asked.

He sat up a bit, grinning brightly. “Good!” Amicia just smiled, not knowing what else to say. _Isn’t he supposed to ask how I am doing?_ As if reading her mind, he asked, “How are you?”

“Good,” Amicia put her quill down, deciding now was as good as ever. “Actually, I had a question.”

“Okay.”

“I was wondering,” Amicia bit her lip and looked down at her lap, hoping it classified as shy or timid, “could I sit with you at lunch? I’m new and it’s just been hard to find people to sit by.”

Jean looked both thrilled and sympathetic. “What? Someone as pretty as _you_ having a hard time finding people to sit by?” He bumped his shoulder into hers and she resisted the urge to freeze up or pull away. Instead, she giggled nervously. 

“Yeah, it’s been hard,” she continued to chew her lip, and let her eyes flicker up to his. _Is this flirting? This has to be flirting. This better be flirting._

“Well,” Jean bit his lip as well and leaned back, “of course you can sit by us.”

“Thank you!” Amicia gathered her stuff and stood, not really wanting to be there for any longer than necessary. “Lucas, Rodric, and I will join you guys tomorrow.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he sat back up, looking up at her. “Lucas and Rodric?”

“Yeah,” Amicia let her voice falter, hoping to garner sympathy. “That’s okay, right? They’re my friends...”

Jean stood up quickly, brushing himself off. “Of course it’s okay!” he reassured. “And I know that no one will mind having you guys join us.”

Amicia nodded and ran inside, quickly losing the boy. 

\---

Jean led her to the table, Lucas following closely with Rodric trailing behind them. 

“Hey, guys.” Everyone looked up at Jean, Amicia, and Lucas. “This is Amicia and her friends. Amicia, this is Annie, Oliver, Emilia, and Chloe.”

Everyone politely said their hellos, and when Emilia called Lucas by his name, he squeaked out a ‘hi’ and flushed to the tips of his ears. The seat next to Emilia was empty and Amicia nodded Lucas towards it. She sat beside Jean, empty space on the side of her, with Rodric across from her. 

Amicia watched with a small smile as Lucas built up the courage to talk to everyone. Emilia was bright and kind, and she was _more_ than happy to include Lucas in the conversation. Jean was sure to include Amicia and Rodric as well. All was going well until she felt a tap on her shoulder. 

“Ahem, this is my seat.” Amicia turned around and was met with a confused looking Mélie. “Oh, hi, Amicia.”

“Hello,” Amicia responded, beginning to stand up. Mélie almost pushed her back down, mumbling something about how she could sit there. 

She took her seat across from Amicia, Arthur sitting beside her. Rodric rolled his eyes and Amicia hid her smile in her palm. 

She was hardly paying attention when she heard Rodric say her name. “Amicia,” he repeated. “Annie asked why you transferred here.” 

“Oh,” Amicia flushed, realizing everyone was looking at her. “My parents want my little brother Hugo to go here in a few years, so they had me come to test the water, I suppose,” she answered quietly. 

“Do you miss Beauxbatons?” Annie probed further.

“No,” Amicia realized honestly. She had only been here a few days, and Lucas and Rodric had managed to be better friends to her in that short time than people had been to her over the course of a few years. “People there were kind of rude, actually.”

Jean threw his head back in laughter. “Amicia,” he nudged her playfully, “I never expected you to say something like _that_.” Amicia didn’t really find anything funny or shocking in what she said and looked across the table. Mélie was watching the interaction almost wistfully, but when the girls made eye contact, she quickly looked away. 

Amicia noticed Rodric looking at her nervously. Arthur was talking to him happily, and Rodric was just nodding along. He turned his head and mouthed, “Help!”

“Lucas, Rodric,” Amicia stood up, “I need to grab some stuff before my next class. Will you guys come?”

Lucas looked disappointed, but Rodric took the opportunity to escape. They quickly said goodbye and thank you to everyone. “Sit with us tomorrow?” Jean asked.

“Maybe,” Amicia shrugged, while Lucas nodded eagerly. The three of them quickly walked to the Ravenclaw common rooms, silent their way there. 

When they got to the door, Rodric stopped. “I’m telling you,” he whipped around, crossing his arms over his chest, “he is trying to get into my head.”

“Why would he be trying to get into your head?” Amicia probed, smiling.

“Before the quidditch tryouts. He knows I am a threat against Gryffindor.”

Amicia tried to stifle her laughter, and Lucas just looked at Rodric, mildly concerned. “Have you considered his motives might not be so sinister?” Lucas asked after a moment.

“Then why is he being so nice?” Rodric demanded.

“Maybe he wants to be friends,” Amicia suggested, letting herself laugh. 

Rodric did not look convinced, but he nodded slowly. “Maybe,” he mulled, “but I don’t fuck with the enemy.”

\---

“Quidditch tryouts are at five o’clock on Friday,” Lucas informed her in the middle of potions. “We need to be there for Rodric.”

“Did he tell you about it?”

“Yes,” Lucas let out. “But I think he is just nervous.”

“I’ll be there on Friday, at four-fifty.” Lucas nodded in response. “He’s been practicing a ton, he’s going to make it.” Amicia finished.

“He has made it each year since his second year, he’s got this,” he told her confidently. 

“You don’t think he’d get a position he doesn’t want, do you?” It was the only thing that had actually worried her.

“No,” Lucas reassured. “They are wise enough to see what a good beater he is.”

“Beater?” Mélie leaned over her cauldron. “Rodric trying out again?”

“Yeah,” Amicia felt oddly suspicious of her. Rodric had been the one to get in her head now, he was making her suspicious of the Cappons, or anyone overly interested in Rodric and quidditch. 

“He’s good,” Mélie smiled. “He actually caused a few problems for Arthur.”

“Okay,” Amicia responded, not wanting to tell her something Rodric wouldn’t want them knowing. _Don’t fraternize with the enemy, even if they are being nice._

“Well,” Mélie leaned back, getting out of Amicia’s space, “Tell him good luck, not that he needs it. Arthur would say the same.” 

\---

Gryffindor tryouts were on Thursday, and after Amicia and Lucas told Rodric about their conversation with Mélie, he insisted they go to them. “To scope out the competition,” as he’d put it. Amicia didn’t mind, she loved quidditch, but Lucas did.

“I _have_ to study,” he insisted. “Can you please go without me?”

So that’s why Amicia and Rodric were huddled on the stands, the light drizzle dampening their hair. She realized they likely stood out, being the only ones there wearing Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff colors. Arthur quickly spotted them and smiled and waved. Amicia waved back, but Rodric just looked away, rolling his eyes.

“Give him a chance,” Amicia whispered. “He’s been nothing but nice to you.”

“Mélie has been nothing but nice to you too,” Rodric snorted.

“Well, I am trying to give her a chance,” Amicia protested, wrapping her jacket tighter around herself.

“You constantly glare at her, so try harder,” Rodric teased.

“I will,” Amicia snapped back. The two of them fell silent as Mélie walked onto the field, extreme determination on her face. 

Everyone was talking and laughing, shivering in the rain. “Hey, quiet!” Arthur ordered as Mélie approached.

“Are you captain, dearest brother of mine?” Mélie demanded in a sing-song voice, gripping her broomstick. Arthur laughed and shook his head, and everyone else laughed nervously. They kept talking, and Mélie rolled her eyes in annoyance. 

“Hey, shut the fuck up, losers!” The field immediately fell silent, and she took a deep breath. 

Rodric leaned over, whispering in Amicia’s ear, “Who pissed in her pumpkin juice?” 

“Who put a broomstick up her ass?” Amicia whispered back, prompting him into a fit of giggles. Soon, the two of them were cackling, gasping for air.

“Oi!” Amicia turned her head and realized Mélie was addressing them from the field. “You two dumbasses can shut up as well, or leave.”

The two of them covered their mouths with their sleeves, and Amicia bit down on her palm to keep her from laughing again. 

“Okay, anyways,” Mélie continued now that it was completely silent, “just do your best, and if you aren’t a piece of rubbish, you might just make the team.” 

“She’s certainly…”

“Inspiring?” Amicia giggled, raising her eyebrows. 

“Yeah, uhhh, inspiring,” he laughed. “This should be entertaining.”

And oh boy, was it _entertaining_. Within the first ten minutes, Mélie and Arthur had narrowed it down to half of the original group. The two of them would watch a few people at a time very closely, and then politely give them feedback. And by politely, it usually meant cussing them out. 

“Why the hell would you do _that_ ?? Are you _blind_??” Some students left after just that, but a few of them laughed it off and continued. 

Amicia almost immediately spotted her strategy. Mélie was looking for those who could handle her harsh criticism, maybe even learn and adapt from it. When people laughed off her comments and continued strong, Mélie looked almost proud. Or maybe Mélie was just being a bitch, Amicia wasn’t entirely sure. 

“Okay, those of you who have stuck around,” Mélie began, addressing everyone who were left, “we are going to play a match. We will divide into two teams. Half of you with Arthur, half of you with me. Good luck!” 

Amicia watched in awe as a boy auditioning to be a beater intercepted one of Arthur’s passes, hitting the quaffle back at another player. The chaser was nearly knocked off their broom, not expecting to be hit by the larger ball.

“What the fuck was that?” Mélie glowered. Everyone was still in the air. “Who did that?”

“Luke,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “That’s against the rules and you knew it.”

He shrugged weakly, not even offering an apology. 

“Okay, you’re done,” Mélie told him firmly, massaging her arm. “Bye.”

“But-”

“No buts, you can try again next year when you read the rules first.” When he didn’t move, Mélie gave him a forced smile. “Bye-bye buddy, better luck next year.” 

Amicia snorted at that, and Mélie looked over and smiled with an eye-roll. After Luke had stormed off of the field, muttering obscenities, the match resumed. 

When Mélie caught a quaffle before it went through the hoop, she looked over at Amicia and Rodric and winked.

“She’s hitting on you!” Amicia gasped at Rodric.

“No, she’s not!” Rodric protested. “She winked at you!” 

“Did not! And besides,” Amicia giggled, “you seem like you’d be more into short-tempered girls than me.” 

\---

Auditions for Hufflepuff were a bit lackluster. The only people that stuck out as any good were people who seemed to be guaranteed a spot, or were on the team last year. The only remarkable thing that happened was that Mélie and Arthur showed up. Both of them waved at Amicia and Lucas but watched the tryouts intensively. 

“Scoping out the competition as well?” Amicia whispered to Lucas.

“I don’t think so,” he whispered back. “They’ve never done this before.”

"Odd," Amicia mumbled with a shrug.

\---

“He got in!” Lucas squeaked. “I checked the list! He’s a beater!!”

“He is? That’s fantastic!” Amicia looked around. “But where is he?”

“Probably in the bathroom squealing,” Lucas giggled, “That’s what he did last year. When I found him his voice was hoarse because he was screaming so much. Oh wait,” he paled, “Don’t tell him I told you that, I wasn’t supposed to.”

“It’s okay,” Amicia promised. “He’ll never know.”


	3. Chapter 3

Anyone could have told Amicia that going to the Gryffindor Halloween party was a bad idea. In fact, Lucas had on _multiple_ occasions. 

“They will be serving adult drinks,” Lucas had warned the Saturday before Halloween.

“I just won’t drink any,” Amicia had reasoned with a small shrug. “Besides, Rodric doesn’t want to go alone.”

So, why was she standing in the middle of the over-crowded Gryffindor common room, clutching a red solo cup filled with Lord knows what, very much without Rodric?

 _Where the hell is he?_ Amicia scanned the room, standing on her tippy toes, not that it helped much. Even though she was five foot five, almost all of the boys and a few of the girls were taller than her, making it impossible to see. 

When had she last seen him? He asked her to get him a drink, so she had, but when she’d returned to where she’d left him, he had disappeared. Amicia stared down at the cup.

 _Screw it._ She lifted the cups to her lips and drank it all in one gulp. Whatever was in there _burned_ and her eyes immediately began to swim with tears. 

Amicia wiped her eyes and put the solo cup down. She pushed through the sea of people, hoping to find some water. When a tall boy accidentally bumped against her, pushing her onto a couch, and when an unseen person splashed a drink all over the front of her chest, that was the end of it for her. 

She jumped up and sputtered, “What the hell?”

“It’s just a drink, chill.”

Amicia glowered and the person turned around. They were so close to her that she had to look up at them to see their face. _Mélie._ “You could say _sorry_?”

Mélie looked down at Amicia and instantly became sober. “Shit, sorry, Amicia,” she rambled, putting her phone in her back pocket. Amicia’s chest grew hot, and she could not tell if it was from the drink that had been spilled on it or rage. 

“I’m sorry,” Mélie murmured again. “Do you want to go… get cleaned up?”

Amicia rolled her eyes and sighed, but eventually nodded. “Fine.” She allowed Mélie to lead her through the crowd, admittedly much easier with Mélie because she was much taller and seemed to not care who she had to push to get through. 

She led her up the stairs into the girl’s dorm, up into the fifth year’s. Amicia felt much calmer and more clear-headed away from the shouting and music, but she was still mad. 

“Come here,” Mélie took her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

It was a mess, at least for Amicia’s taste. Four sinks crowded the small space, along with three shower stalls and three toilet stalls. It wasn’t the set up that bugged her, as it was much similar to that in the Ravenclaw dormitories, but the straighteners, hair curlers, brushes, and makeup supplies that were strewn around in a haphazardly organized mess. 

If Amicia had ever had any doubt about being in Ravenclaw, this was her confirmation that she didn’t belong anywhere else. 

“I promise, it’s clean when we have the time,” Mélie reassured, noticing the way Amicia eyed the mess with contempt. She nodded and pressed up against the sink, waiting for instruction. “Well… probably run your shirt under cold water.”

Amicia removed her shirt, shivering in her bra. She turned on the tap, waiting for the water to become cold, and then ran it under the water, scrubbing the stain. 

“Oh,” Mélie mumbled. “It will probably be wet for a while, huh.”

 _No shit sherlock._ Amicia bit her tongue and resisted an eye-roll. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be right back.” She opened the bathroom door and ran out, and Amicia continued scrubbing the stain. It was _not_ showing any signs of coming out. With a sigh, she realized she’d either have to toss the shirt or see if there was a spell that could remove the stain. 

Mélie came back a few moments later, holding a rumpled, red and gold sweatshirt. “Here, wear this,” she offered, thrusting the shirt towards Amicia’s chest.

Amicia turned off the tap and left her wet shirt in the sink, taking the one Mélie had offered. “Thank you,” she told her as she pulled it over her head. It was huge on her and smelled of cinnamon and just general _Mélieness_ , but she didn’t mind. Better than parading around in her bra or a dripping, dirty shirt. “I’ll get it back to you as soon as possible.”

“Nah, you can keep it,” Mélie grinned. “I ruined your other shirt, and you look good in Gryffindor colors.” Amicia just laughed and Mélie flushed. “I mean, you look good in all colors-” she began to ramble.

“No no,” Amicia chuckled. “I get it, you’re fine.” _This girl has had too much firewhiskey_. 

Mélie just smiled and led her from the common rooms, down the stairs, and back out into the chaos. Amicia was holding her dripping shirt in one hand, her other hand stuffed deep in the pocket of the shirt she was now wearing. 

When she found Rodric, he was sitting on the couch, looking _extremely_ uncomfortable. A girl was sitting awfully close to him, and he was trying to inch away. 

“Rodric!” He looked up and grinned happily when she rushed over. “Come on, we’re going.”

“I don’t mind!” he told her a little too loudly.

Amicia looked up at him. “How much did you drink?”

“Not much,” he promised. 

“Good, I’m done dealing with drunk idiots,” she told him, completely oblivious to the fact that Mélie was still standing there. 

“Harsh,” she laughed, and Amicia flushed to the tips of her ears. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m always an idiot.”

Amicia laughed nervously and said a quick goodbye, dragging Rodric from the common room, out into the hall.

“Whose shirt is that?”

“Mélie’s.”

Rodric did a double-take. “Why are you wearing her shirt?”

“This,” Amicia held up her sopping shirt, “is why.”

“Oh,” he huffed. “I was so confused and I was like, why is she wearing a Gryffindor shirt, and-”

“I get it,” Amicia laughed. 


	4. Chapter 4

The night before the quidditch tournament, Rodric needed to grab his quidditch uniform to wash before the game. Amicia came along with him to his quidditch locker, in the quidditch locker rooms. He led them to the designated lockers for the Hufflepuffs, coined by their yellow stripes. 

Rodric grabbed the jumbled pile of sweaty clothes, tucking them under his arm. He slammed the locker shut, and the two of them turned to leave, but he held a finger to his lips.

Amicia tilted her head questioningly but remained quiet.

“I hear someone in the quidditch strategy room,” he hissed. 

Rodric tiptoed over to the door, slowly turning the handle. He pushed open the door, and Amicia peeked over his shoulder, revealing Mélie and Arthur standing by the quidditch equipment. Both of them wore an expression of surprise as the door creaked open, but just as quickly as Rodric opened the door, he shut it, mumbling an apology.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, grabbing Amicia’s hand as he sprinted from the locker room.

They ran across the dark quidditch field, making their way inside the castle. Amicia half expected to be followed, but they were alone. 

“What were they doing?” Amicia finally asked after they had run inside and caught their breaths. 

“I dunno,” he shrugged uncertainly, still panting. “They were with the equipment.”

“But what were they doing?”

He shrugged again. “None of our business, it doesn’t matter.”

She nodded, a sinking feeling in her gut. He walked her back to her dorm, making lighthearted jokes, but she couldn’t think clearly. Something felt off about the Gryffindor captain _alone_ with the quidditch equipment, right before a game against Hufflepuff. 

Amicia shook her head firmly, warding the thoughts away. As much as she disliked the Cappons, even suggesting they would tamper with equipment was a _serious_ accusation, one that could not be taken lightly. She’d just shove this feeling aside to worry about later. 

\---

When she got dressed in the morning, Amicia frowned. It was frigid outside, and her nice, thick shirt had yet to be washed after the Halloween... incident. She _really_ needed to get on that, but by now, the shirt was likely beyond repair. She glanced through her drawers. 

_Mélie’s Gryffindor sweater._

The one she had neglected to give back. 

The one that smelled like cinnamon, rain, butterbeer, and just... _Mélie_. Even if she hated butterbeer, it wasn’t bad at all. 

She slipped it on, secretly glad it still smelled like it did when she received it, and pulled over it a Hufflepuff sweater that Rodric had let her borrow. Since the match did not involve Ravenclaw, Amicia felt no guilt supporting Hufflepuff. The majority of Slytherin and plenty of Ravenclaws would be supporting Hufflepuff as well. 

Despite her Hufflepuff pride on the outside, Amicia felt guilty for sporting Mélie’s shirt underneath. Every time the soft fabric rubbed against her skin, she remembered it was a Gryffindor shirt. And not _just_ a Gryffindor shirt, but the captain of their quidditch team’s shirt as well. It somehow felt like the ultimate betrayal to Rodric, perhaps even all of Hufflepuff. Amicia made a decision and tore off both shirts, putting back on only the Hufflepuff one. 

She’d rather be cold.

\---

Before the game, Amicia and Lucas both gave Rodric a tight hug, wishing him luck. He was shaking, but Lucas whispered something unidentifiable in his ear, and he calmed down immensely. Lucas then pulled a little Hufflepuff flag from his bag and waved it through the air, a small smile on his yellow with black stripes painted face.

“We’re rooting for you.”

\---

Running into Mélie before the game was… an _interesting_ experience. Amicia was sprinting down the hall, and turned the corner, slamming into a girl in a Gryffindor quidditch uniform, who dropped her broomstick upon impact.

“Shoot, I’m sorry!” Amicia rambled and bent over to pick up the fallen broomstick. All she saw was a sea of red and gold fabric, but her fingers finally found the wooden handle. She straightened her back, bumping foreheads with the girl, laughing nervously. 

The girl smelled like cinnamon, rain, and butterbeer. 

_Mélie._

_Well shit._

Amicia thrust the broomstick into Mélie’s arms, mumbled an apology, and turned to leave. She was able to get around the corner before Mélie called after her, “Amicia, are you okay?”

“Yup!” Amicia hurried down the hall, not glancing behind her. Mélie must have run to catch up with her, because she was now beside her, easily keeping pace with Amicia.

“We haven’t really talked since Halloween.” 

“Yup.” Amicia urged her legs to walk faster. Not that it mattered, Mélie’s long strides would easily keep up with hers.

“You’re not mad or anything, are you?”

Amicia stopped walking and turned to look at Mélie. “No, but you’re about to have a game against Rodric’s team and it feels wrong talking to you... so yeah,” she finished lamely. Her reasoning was truthful, mixed in with the fact she already had a general distaste for Mélie, but once it had left her mouth, she realized how silly it sounded.

Mélie’s eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded understandingly. “I completely understand. You don’t want to jinx the game.”

“Yeah,” she nodded eagerly, happy to use Mélie’s reasoning. “So I’ll talk to you later.”

That was a lie. 

Well, not a lie, seeing as Mélie would talk to her and Amicia would politely nod her head and occasionally say something that made her sound like she was listening, but she wouldn’t _willingly_ talk to her later. 

\---

It was fucking cold. Amicia was actually starting to regret not wearing Mélie’s shirt underneath her Hufflepuff one, but she refused to admit it. Instead, she huddled by Lucas, who had wisely worn a coat. 

_Why didn’t I wear a coat?_

The game started, and Amicia watched, intrigued. She was intrigued because the game was managing to be the most _normal_ game she had ever witnessed. Not _boring_ , just oddly normal. 

That changed quickly.

About twenty minutes into the game, Rodric hit a bludger with his bat. But, instead of going in the general direction he’d hit it in, it turned right back around, smacking him in the stomach. 

Rodric was… not expecting that, and neither was anyone watching. 

Amicia and Lucas both stood up, and audible gasps rippled through the stands as Rodric lost his balance and fell from his broomstick, plummeting to the ground below. 

The whistle was blown, the game was stopped, Rodric was taken off the field and promptly replaced, the bludger was taken and replaced as well, and the game continued as normal. 

But it wasn’t normal.

It was all a blur for Amicia, and she followed numbly as Lucas took her hand and led her from the stands, escorting her inside. He brought her to the hospital wing, where he spoke quietly with Madame Bell. 

“Is Rodric okay? Can we see him? Please?”

She gave them both a small smile, likely one that she had rehearsed a thousand times for parents and students alike who were about to hear something they would not like. 

“He fell about twenty feet, Lucas dear. He broke a few bones, and will certainly be out for a few hours at least.”

Lucas made a strangled noise, and lifted his hands and clenched at the air in a strange, exasperated motion. “Can we still see him, _please_?”

Madame Bell looked from Lucas to Amicia, sighing, before nodding her head. “Just let him rest, it’s what he needs. But you’re welcome to sit beside him if it makes you feel any better.”

Lucas nodded, pulling Amicia inside the hospital wing. He dragged two chairs up beside Rodric, gently sitting Amicia down, before sitting himself. Lucas whispered something to Rodric about how it would be okay and how they were there for him, and Amicia was silent. 

Not that it mattered, Rodric couldn’t hear them anyway. 

After a few minutes, Lucas stopped talking. Finally, Amicia let out, “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I know.”

“That wasn’t normal.”

“I know.”

“Then why did it happen?” Amicia was no longer sitting still, her hands were waving through the air as she spoke. At that moment, if she didn’t have them, it would be impossible for her to speak. 

“I-I,” Lucas swallowed and looked down at his hands, “I think it _may_ have been tampered with.”

Amicia frowned but nodded. “Me too. I just didn’t want to say that.”

“I think that the coach agreed it must have been tampered with, because they replaced not only Rodric, but the bludger as well.” Amicia had begun to bite her nails, and she was slowly nodding as Lucas spoke. “We will likely know in a few hours if it was tampered with, but if it was,” he frowned, “it’s fair to assume that it was someone of the Gryffindor team, but we don’t know who.”

Amicia’s brows pinched together, and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I think I know who.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

\---

After the match, the Hufflepuff team had come to visit Rodric. He was still out cold, but they talked to him as normal. They tried to be cheerful and upbeat, but Amicia saw through their act in a second, and if Rodric was even _remotely_ conscious, he could too. 

Hufflepuff had lost. The game (which had been going pretty well for Hufflepuff) had only gone downhill for them once Rodric was out. Everyone was bummed, and Amicia knew Rodric would be crushed once he found out. 

What upset her more was the fact that Madame Bell said Rodric may need to sit out this season and try out again next year. 

The Hufflepuff team didn’t say much after Madame Bell told them that. 

\---

“You can _not_ go to the party to confront her,” Lucas insisted. They were sitting alone in the Ravenclaw common room, huddled by the fire. “You’ll quickly be singled out. You’re not even a Gryffindor.”

Amicia chuckled at that. “Nah, they don’t care who goes. And, if they do,” she unfolded Mélie’s sweatshirt and held it up to show Lucas, “I’ll just wear this.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “This is a bad idea, but I doubt I can stop you.”

Amicia gave him a small, half-hearted smile. “You can’t.”

\---

After the Halloween party, Amicia had vowed that she would never set foot in the Gryffindor common room, _ever_. But here she was, holding another red solo cup filled with more of God knows what, scanning the room. But this time, she was not searching for Rodric. 

This time, she was searching for Mélie and Arthur.

Not that it was hard to find Mélie. Nope, not at all. Gryffindor had won, after all, therefore their quidditch team was exceptionally loud and obnoxious. Even more so than normal.

Amicia wanted to stuff cotton in her ears, they were so damn noisy. Everyone seemed to be there, and the only person she hadn’t seen was Arthur. Where had he gone? With confronting him no longer being an option, Amicia realized she’d _have_ to talk to Mélie, willingly. 

So she _hadn't_ lied earlier. Not technically. 

Amicia forced her way through the crowd Mélie had buried herself in and politely tapped on her shoulder. 

“We need to talk.”

“What?” Mélie shouted over the noise of the common room.

“We need to talk!”

“WHAT??”

She rolled her eyes as Mélie brought her ear down to Amicia’s mouth. Amicia wasn’t _that_ short. She didn’t lower her voice, instead raising her volume as she screamed, “WE NEED TO TALK!”

“Ow,” Mélie recoiled and rubbed her ear, scrunching up her face. “Okay.”

Mélie made no move to go elsewhere for this conversation, so Amicia shouted, “I know you tampered with the bludger!”

Her eyebrows furrowed, creating a thin line between them. “ _What?_ ”

Amicia breathed in and shouted in one breath, “I KNOW YOU TAMPERED WITH THE BLUDGER!” 

It was oddly quiet. Ah… the music had stopped. They must have been switching out songs. Half of the room turned to look at Amicia, and Mélie blushed and frowned, grabbing Amicia’s wrist.

“Come with me,” Mélie ordered and pushed her way through the crowd. 

The music had started again, but it was now much quieter than before, and no one was talking, other than a few hushed whispers and odd looks thrown in their direction. Mélie dragged Amicia, still gripping her wrist, up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories. 

“Sit,” Mélie practically pushed Amicia onto an unmade bed (which she assumed to be Mélie’s) and glowered down at her. “What the actual _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. Amicia stood up, but Mélie pushed her back down, and Amicia bounced a little from the forcefulness. “You’re not leaving until you explain.”

Amicia glared right back at her, refusing to let her gaze waver from Mélie’s. “You and Arthur tampered with the bludger,” she stood up, this time jabbing an accusatory finger into Mélie’s chest. “You could have _killed_ him.”

“I did not,” Mélie took a small step back, swatting away Amicia’s hand dismissively. “What are you even talking about?”

“We saw you last night, in the quidditch strategy room. I knew something was up, but I felt guilty for even _thinking_ you would do something like that.” Amicia took another step forward, and told her, her voice dripping with contempt, “But I guess I should have trusted my gut, and realized you were the kind of person to do something like _that_.”

Mélie was still glowering down at Amicia. “I did no such thing. And I’m not whatever kind of person you seem to think I am.” 

“Yes you are,” Amicia’s stomach was boiling, and her skin was on fire. “You’re a troublemaker who thinks you’re above the rules and therefore thinks you’re above everyone else at this school.”

Mélie paused and smirked, arms folding over her chest, almost triumphantly. “If you’re so convinced, and you have such _definitive_ proof, why don’t you just go report us?” she raised an eyebrow mockingly, “Oh, or do you realize you don’t actually have proof?” Mélie jabbed her finger into Amicia’s chest, mimicking the motion Amicia had done mere moments ago. “So shut the fuck up and go back to your own common room where you belong. I may be a bit of a troublemaker, but at least I’m not a prissy little goody-two-shoes.”

Amicia had never been more tempted to slap someone, but she restrained herself, her hands forming a fist and her nails digging into her palms painfully. “You’re such a twat,” Amicia glared. “And I’m not a goody-two-shoes. I will find proof and I will make sure that you pay for hurting Rodric.” 

Before Mélie could retaliate, or argue that she was _indeed_ a goody two shoes, Amicia stormed past her, making her way down the stairs.

“Good luck with that, princess,” Mélie called after her.

“Fuck you too!”

She yanked off the Gryffindor sweatshirt, not caring that underneath she only had on a white tank top. Amicia was tempted to leave it in a pile on the stairs, but she decided it would be much more enjoyable to hex it later, maybe even light it on fire. 

Or just dump some good old firewhiskey on it.


	5. Chapter 5

Amicia, in fact, did not light Mélie’s shirt on fire. At least not yet. Instead, she ran back to her common room. Amicia hurried into her room and shoved the shirt in her drawer, muttering obscenities, ignoring the concerned looks her roommates gave her. After putting on a new shirt, she raced down to the hospital wing, looking for Lucas.

She pushed open the door and ran inside. 

_ Arthur _ .

He was sitting beside Rodric, his eyes shut and his head resting on the cool metal bar at the side of the bed. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Amicia demanded, momentarily taking out her rage for Mélie on the closest source, her brother.

Arthur shot up and out of his seat, stumbling a little and clutching onto the metal handrail. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, completely frazzled. “I was just worried and came to check in on him and I fell asleep.”

“Why do you care?” Amicia frowned. “You and your sister are the assholes who almost killed him.”

“What?” Arthur’s expression was identical to Mélie’s. Complete confusion. 

“You were in the quidditch strategy room,  _ alone _ with the equipment last night. We,” she gestured between herself and Rodric, who was still asleep, “saw.”

Arthur’s face scrunched up as he shook his head. “We were in the strategy room, but we didn’t tamper with equipment.”

“Then what were you doing?” Amicia frowned.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Madame  Atkinson had us release the snitch, she didn’t have time to.”

“Wait,” Amicia chewed the inside of her cheek, her knees going stiff, “you were only releasing the snitch?”

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly. “That’s all we were doing. No tampering with bludgers.”

“Shit,” Amicia murmured. __

_ The snitch is released the night before the game. They were releasing the snitch. _ She paled, turning on her heel to go.

“What’s wrong?” 

“I-I just got mad at Mélie,” Amicia mumbled. “And told her she thinks that she’s above the rules… And then she told me that I’m a prissy goody-two-shoes… And then I told her to fuck off.”

Arthur’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head. “You really pissed her off, huh?”

“Should I apologize?”

Arthur paused, his mouth twisting, and Amicia appreciated that he was actually taking time to consider his answer. 

“No,” he told her after a long pause. “She won’t want to hear it. Just give her some time.” Arthur took notice of her pained expression, and told her with a small smile, “Mélie seems to really like you; don’t put too much thought into it.”

“We’ve only talked a few times,” Amicia laughed, trying to squelch the panic building up inside of her. “She has no reason to.” 

He shrugged weakly. 

“And I’m a little mad,” she admitted finally.

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have accused you guys, but if she had just told me… or not been so rude. I don’t know,” Amicia sighed helplessly.

“You shouldn’t have accused us,” he admitted, “and she’s probably mostly pissed that you have no trust in her, but I get how it looked.” Arthur realized slowly, his eyes widening, “It must have looked  _ really _ suspicious, but don’t worry. She’ll bounce back in a few days… or weeks.”

“Okay,” Amicia nodded. Arthur sat back down by Rodric, and Amicia smiled. 

“He will not be happy if he wakes up with me beside him,” Arthur chuckled, his mouth curving up into a smile.

“Why?” Amicia smiled and raised an eyebrow innocently.

“He despises me,” Arthur laughed. “Like you despise Mélie, even though you really don’t.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You’re afraid that you upset her,” he shrugged, now pulling an innocent expression himself. “I figured you must care about her, at least a little.”

Amicia rolled her eyes, holding back a smirk. “Maybe a little… But... Not really, she’s kinda rude.”

\---

A few days after the quidditch match, Professor Nicholas was on another one of his rants. Amicia and Lucas had mostly learned to drown them out, but on occasion, their potions professor would specifically target a student in particular, and then it became hard to ignore. 

This one was all because Chole, Mélie’s potion partner, had suggested using a bezoar, rather than infusion of wormwood, when he was going over the directions for brewing the Draught of Living Death. 

“Do you want to kill everyone in this class?” he bellowed, “Because I understand the temptation, but you  _ cannot  _ do that!” He paused, to catch his breath, glowering at Chole, who was trying hard not to cry. “How are you in advanced potions? Do we need to transfer you?”

Amicia frowned, a pang of guilt shooting through her. He had already transferred three students, and Chloe would be lucky if she was there for the rest of the lesson.

“N-No, professor,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sitting this one out,” professor Nicholas frowned, “Until you are more competent and can prove you wouldn’t even  _ suggest _ something that stupid again.” 

Chole held back tears as she picked up her books and made her way to the back of the class. Mélie glared at the professor but kept her mouth shut after Chole gave her a pointed look, a silent warning. 

“Well now Miss Cappon needs a partner,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Because I doubt she’s competent enough to do it alone.” 

He looked around the room, his eyes landing on Amicia. She quickly looked down at her lap, and he made his way across the room, standing in front of her expectantly. 

“You.” She looked up, and he was pointing at Lucas, who shrank back in his seat beside her. “You have the highest grade in this class. Do you feel confident that you could brew the Draught of Living Death without assistance?”   


Lucas nodded slowly and shyly. “I do believe so sir, with the help of the book.”   


“Perfect,” Nicholas smiled a wicked grin and turned his attention to Amicia. “You,” he rapped the desk in front of her with his wand, “you’re working with Mélie for the time being.” 

Amicia flushed and slowly stood up, gathering her books. Arguing with Nicholas was a pointless endeavor. Lucas let out a small protest, but one look from Nicholas shut him up. She made her way across the classroom and sat down in the seat beside Mélie, practically feeling her boring holes into her side with the way she was glaring. 

“Okay, now that that is taken care of, I’ll leave you to your own devices. Good luck!”

Students began to reach into their cupboards, pulling out ingredients and giggling with their friends. But Mélie was silent. Amicia grabbed their ingredients, setting them out in an orderly fashion in front of them.

“Pass the Wormwood,” Mélie demanded after she had filled the cauldron halfway with standard potioning water.

“Please.”

She looked up and glowered. “Pass the Wormwood.”

“ _ Please. _ ”

“Please stop treating me like you probably treat your little brother Hugh, and pass over the Wormwood.”

“It’s _Hugo_ ,” Amicia huffed and shoved it into her hands. 

Mélie ignored her and carefully poured in the infusion, watching as the cauldron simmered and bubbled. Amicia added the Powdered Root of Asphodel, and Mélie reached over and picked up the ladle. 

She stirred twice, and Amicia watched her carefully, making sure she was doing it clockwise. Mélie dropped in the sloth’s brain right after, and some of the potion splashed onto Amicia’s robes, sizzling slightly. 

“Can you at least be careful?”

“Can you at least back up a little?”

Amicia frowned and pulled out a cutting board, trying to cut the Sophorus beans. They flew out from under her fingers, and she huffed when she had to bend over and retrieve them. Finally, she managed to cut one, squeezing the juice into the cauldron.

“I already added that.”

“Are y-you…?” Amicia made a strangled noise. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She tried not to shout, hoping Nicholas wouldn’t look their way and send them both to a regular potions class. 

“I thought you’d see me do that!” Mélie whisper shouted, grabbing the ladle and beginning to stir. Amicia grabbed the ladle from her, flinging a few droplets of potion onto their books. 

“Well I wouldn’t want to encroach on your obviously superior potion-making skills,” Mélie glowered when Amicia took the ladle from her. “Just finish it yourself.”

“I have to just stir it, so thanks a _lot_.” 

She stirred seven times counter-clockwise, ignoring Mélie’s glares as she did so. A few minutes later, Professor Nicholas walked around, wearing a crusade helmet. It was actually mildly intimidating, but Amicia was trying not to giggle. 

He walked around, dropping a leaf in each cauldron. Lucas’s, as expected, was perfect, and Nicholas praised him endlessly. A few of the potions exploded in his face, but, as he explained, that’s what the crusader looking helmet was for. 

He stopped in front of Mélie’s cauldron, and she tried to stop glowering for at least a moment. The leaf dropped into the black potion, shriveling up and sinking to the bottom.

“Practically perfect,” he drolled, “But not. You’re coming after dinner to re-do it until it is not just practically perfect, but _ perfect _ .”

“Other student’s potions blew up in your face,” Mélie interjected, her arms crossed, “Why don’t they have to stay after?”   


He pulled off his helmet, and Amicia assumed that was just so that they could see how pissed he looked. He furrowed his dark eyebrows, his piercingly cold blue eyes staring at Mélie’s.

“Because,” he frowned, “Miss Cappon and Miss de Rune, you two are not other students.” 

\---

They came back after dinner and made the potion again, deciding that Mélie would do the first half and Amicia would do the second half. This time, he declared it was worse than before.

“One more try. If you can’t get it, you two are out of the class.”

Amicia and Mélie both whipped to look at each other, glaring. “I’m not getting removed from this class.”

“And I’m not letting you get us removed,” Mélie retorted. 

Amicia stood up with new determination. “Then let’s fucking do this.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Well, now you have.”

Mélie gave her a faint smile and pulled back her hair haphazardly, rolling up her sleeves. “I’ll get the portioning water, will you measure out the ingredients?”

“Sure.”

What entailed wasn’t particularly friendly, but it wasn’t brash and abrasive. It was more similar two that of two strangers working together for the first time.

“Pass the Wormwood.”

“Please.”

Mélie rolled her eyes but smirked. “Please.”

“Here you go. Did you want to stir?”

“Sure.” Mélie took the ladle from her, stirring carefully as to not splash liquid again.

Amicia began cutting the Sophorus beans, and Mélie glanced over. “Already added that.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

The two finished without any more problems, and Amicia looked up to see Nicholas looking at them intently. He wasn’t smiling but… he wasn’t frowning.

“You ladies done?”

“Yes,” Mélie informed him.

He sighed and put on his crusader helmet before walking over and dropping a leaf in the cauldron. It burned up, and Amicia grimaced.

_ It’s supposed to, right? _

“Good,” he let out, taking off his helmet. “Perfect. You may go now, enjoy what’s left of your evening.”

“We still need to clean-“ Mélie began to protest.

He waved them off with a flick of his wrist. “I’ve got it, go before I make you stay longer.”

“Thanks.”

The two hurried from the room before he could change his mind, making their way upstairs. Amicia internally groaned, realizing hospital visiting hours were over, and she'd be unable to see Rodric tonight.

They made their way down the halls, and Mélie turned down the corner that led to the Gryffindor common room.

“Mélie?”

“Yeah?” She turned around. Mélie didn’t look upset, just curious. 

“I’m sorry.”

Her face softened. “It’s okay.”

“About a few nights ago,” Amicia found herself continuing, “For accusing you.”

Mélie sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry too. You were right, I was being a twat,” she chuckled.

“Sorry for calling you that.”

“It’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, my updating schedule has already been super ultra wack because I keep starting new projects, but it may get even wackier because I have Academic Decathlon regionals coming up in a few weeks. Sorry 😅


	6. Chapter 6

“Rodric wanted to tell you something,” Lucas informed her as she made her way into the common room. He was sitting by the fire, reading a History of Magic book. He had already read through it twice, but he claimed a third time was in order. “He said it was urgent and wouldn’t tell me, but I let him know you were stuck with Nicholas.”

“Thanks,” Amicia placed her book bags down by the stairs that led up to the dorms, “I’ll go see him soon.”

“Visiting hours are over,” he protested weakly, placing a finger in his book to mark his spot.

“So,” she gave him a small smile.

He sighed, opening his book again. “Don’t get caught,” was all Lucas told her.

“I won’t.”

\---

After getting into her blue button-up pajama shirt and black sweats, she made her way back into the common room. She read by the fire until everyone else had gone to bed (or passed out studying on the couches). Then, she made her journey to the hospital wing.

“Rodric?” she hissed, sitting beside his bed. “What did you need?”

He opened his eyes and blinked, slowly grinning. “Amicia!” 

“Shh,” she warned, looking behind her warily. “What’s up though?”

“Arthur,” he sighed heavily, “keeps visiting me, and he’s just too nice.”

Amicia snorted. “ _This,_ ” she giggled, “is urgent?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” Amicia inhaled and set her face into its resting position. “Tell me about it.”

“He visits every day for an hour or so, and either talks to me about quidditch and television shows, or I pretend to be asleep and he just reads or does homework.”

“That’s sweet though.”

Rodric harrumphed. “Maybe to you, but I’m losing it.”

“I’ll have Jean or someone distract him, maybe he just has too much free time.”

He chuckled. “I understand the feeling of too much free time.” Rodric gestured to the piles of books on his bedside table.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier today, I was-“

He held up his hand, silencing her. “Not your fault,” he told her in a sing-songy voice, his eyes crinkled. “Lucas told me about Mélie and Nicholas.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Course, Amicia.”

\---

After helping Rodric through some schoolwork, she made her way back to her dorm room. It was silent, other than her footsteps and the paintings snoring on the walls. She turned the corner and saw a dim light down the corridor. She stopped, ducking behind a gargoyle as she tried not to breathe.

“Is anyone there?” Amicia instantly recognized the deep, gravelly voice. Professor Nicholas.

A breath hitched in her throat as she backed against the wall. Amicia was royally screwed, especially if it was Nicholas. She didn’t want to deal with him twice in the same day.

The light was getting nearer. Her fingers brushed against the tapestry behind her, and she gently pulled at the cloth, searching for a gap she could squeeze behind. Amicia had shifted slightly and found a gap when someone wrapped their hand around her mouth and pulled her back behind the tapestry, into a small, dark passage.

Amicia held in a gasp, and the person held onto her until they heard the footsteps click past them. Once professor Nicholas was out of earshot, the person released their grip on her. Amicia turned around to face them, but they were gone. 

“Lumos maxima,” Amicia murmured, a bright glow illuminating from the tip of her wand. She saw a flash of gold and someone turning down the corner. 

“Wait,” Amicia called out, sprinting after the person. They were fast, but the passage was narrow and only went in one direction, so she wasn’t too worried about losing them.

They stopped at the end of the passage and pulled a board away from the wall before climbing through and quickly putting it back. Amicia moved the board out of the way and crashed out of the passage, tangled in a tapestry.

“Are you fucking serious?” someone groaned in utter annoyance. They pulled the tapestry off of Amicia and lifted her to her feet. “Did you seriously have to follow me?”

Amicia struggled to regain her balance before looking up at the person. Black sweats, gold tank top, red hair, utterly annoyed expression. 

Mélie _._

_Seriously?_

Amicia looked around the empty Gryffindor common room. It looked completely different without all of the students in it, almost peaceful and comfortable. Amicia bent down and picked up her wand. Thank the good Lord, it wasn’t broken. 

Mélie went to put the board back in place and cover it with a tapestry. “You’re really fucking annoying, you know that? I try and help you out and then you feel the need to follow me.”

Amicia frowned, still in slight shock. “I’m not annoying,” was all she could get out in her state. 

“Yeah you are,” Mélie grumbled, straightening out the ornate tapestry. “Very annoying.”

“Hmft,” Amicia snorted. 

All of the sudden, the situation was far too funny. Under any other situation, her standing in the Gryffindor common room in the middle of the night, alone with Mélie, would be weird. Well, it was still weird. Probably weirder than any other reason she would have been in there.

“What were you out this late doing?” Mélie asked, sounding oddly accusatory.

“Might I ask you the same?” Amicia raised an eyebrow.

“I was trying to find Arthur.”

“I was visiting Rodric.”

Mélie paused. “Interesting.”

“Not really,” Amicia shrugged, looking at her wand intently. “Other than some things he told me about your brother."

"Like what?"

Amicia ignored her question, both to annoy her, and because she was uncertain of whether or not Rodric would appreciate her saying anything. "Why did you help me if I’m so annoying?”

“Because I didn’t _realize_ you’re so damn annoying until now,” was Mélie’s snide response, but her smirk gave her away. She walked over to a couch and plopped down, reclining with her hands crossed behind her head.

Amicia sat down on the couch opposite of Mélie, sitting cross-legged. “I-Is there a way for me to get back to my room… without professor Nicholas catching me?”

Mélie paused and thought for a moment before responding cheerfully, “Nope, but good luck.”

“Ahaha, _very_ funny,” Amicia rolled her eyes. “You’re helping me.”

Mélie’s lips curved up, and an eyebrow quirked. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, and lowered her voice before asking, “Why should I?”

“Because,” Amicia mimicked the motion and lowered her voice as well, “you should.”

“Compelling,” she leaned back, returning to her original position. “You may have convinced me.”

“Good,” Amicia stood up, “Let’s go.”

Mélie smirked and stood up as well, stretching her back and pulling her tank top straps back over her shoulders. “Lemme grab something and we can go.” She ran up the stairs and returned a few moments later with a silky, silvery material that she stuffed in her pockets. “Let’s go.”

She pushed away the tapestry and removed the wooden board, ushering Amicia inside. Amicia pulled out her wand and climbed inside, Mélie following close behind her, putting the tapestry and board back in place.

“How did you find this?” Amicia wondered aloud, looking at the stone as she turned the corner.

“I’ve been here five years, it’s easy if you look hard enough.”

“What do you use it for.”

Amicia could tell Mélie was grinning as she answered, “Sneaking out to get to the kitchens.”

“Pity you’re not a Hufflepuff,” Amicia laughed. “You’d be much closer to the kitchens.”

Mélie’s nose wrinkled up, and Amicia’s smile fell as she answered, “I’m glad I’m not a Hufflepuff though, their quidditch team sucks.” She seemed to remember who she was talking to and attempted to amend, “Not Rodric though.”

“Hmft,” Amicia let out, “And the Gryffindor team is full of assholes.” She paused and pretended to act surprised as she let out sarcastically, “Oh, but _not_ _you_. You’re the exception.”

Mélie snorted, holding her hands in the air in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

“It was,” Amicia decided, hiding a smile, “but thank you for apologizing.”

They reached the end of the tunnel, but before Amicia could hop out from behind the tapestry, Mélie grabbed her shoulder. “Not yet,” she hissed, pulling the fabric from her pocket. “Just put this on and don’t ask questions.” 

Amicia eyed the material. Now that she could have a better look at it, she realized it wasn’t that silver. It was sheerer, with a silver shine. As she grabbed the fabric tentatively, she realized it was fluid-like. If water and air could be woven into silk, this would be the result. She slipped her hand under it, ready to pull it on.

_Oh God, my hand is gone. Oh God, my hand is gone._

She stared down at it in shock. Mélie noticed her expression and began to cackle. “It’s still there,” she gasped, trying to squelch her laughter. “Just put it on.”

Amicia took in a few deep breaths before covering herself with the cloth. She looked down at her feet and then her hands. Now that she was under it, she could see them. Mélie reached out and grabbed the material, covering herself as well, huddling next to Amicia.

Her hot breath on her cheek caused the hair on the back of Amicia’s neck to stand, and she was all too aware of Mélie’s hands accidentally brushing against her back and waist.

“Let’s go,” she hissed, leading Amicia out of the passage and down the hall.

It was an awkward stumble, and it was clear that the cloak would optimally only cover one person. But they managed until Amicia tripped, sending them both to the floor. Mélie groaned and pushed herself off of Amicia.

“I think it’s fine, let’s just walk without the cloak,” she murmured as Amicia picked herself up.

They walked in the dark, making their way to the Ravenclaw common room. “What is that cloak made of?” Amicia asked, thinking of how it felt and looked like water and air woven into cloth.

“Not sure,” Mélie shrugged.

“Where did you get it from?”

Mélie’s nose scrunched up, and Amicia could tell she was debating on whether or not she should tell her the truth. Finally, she told her, “Arthur found it stuffed in that passage our first year here.”

“Who do you think it belongs to?”

She smiled playfully as they made their way up the stairs of Ravenclaw tower. “I think it belonged to a mass murderer.” When Amicia didn’t laugh, she said with a thoughtful look, “But I’m actually pretty certain it belonged to a student who found it just like us. Arthur and I decided that before we graduate, we will leave it where we found it. Kinda like giving it back, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Amicia’s lips tilted up, and she held onto the handrail, “You two seemed like the type to keep it.”

“Not much use for it once we graduate.”

Amicia stopped in front of the common room door, and Mélie went silent, waiting for the eagle knocker to offer them a riddle. Now that Mélie was quiet, she heard someone walking up the stairs behind them.

“Hurry up,” Mélie coaxed.

“What am I?” the knocker finally asked.

“Just please let us in!” Amicia begged, panicking now that the footsteps were growing nearer. Mélie was trying to push the door open, but it didn’t budge. 

“Incorrect. I’ll let you try again.”

Amicia heard the footsteps growing louder, and Mélie pushed into her side.

“What gets broken without being held?”

Amicia sucked in a breath. “A promise,” she hissed. The door swung open, and right as the two of them tried to enter, someone grabbed their shirts. 

“Miss. Cappon! Miss. de Rune! Funny seeing you two!” professor Fernsby smiled at the two of them, wearing glasses that she hadn’t had on during the day. “Now, might I ask, what are you two doing?”

“W-We-” Amicia stammered.

“Boys,” Mélie interjected, looking at the teacher intently. “Trying to hook up with boys.”

 _What the hell, Mélie._

Amicia bit down on her tongue, _hard,_ and professor Fernsby eyed them both strangely before bursting out into a fit of cackles, bending over to catch her breath.

“God, you girls crack me up,” she wiped away a tear, “Now Amicia, tell me what you girls were _really_ doing.”

Amicia looked over at Mélie and swallowed. “Visiting Rodric.”

“Why didn’t you go during regular visiting hours?” she asked, managing to look both stern and empathetic.

“Professor Nicholas kept us after class,” Mélie supplied, frowning.

“Now why did he do that?”

“To remake the Draught of Living Death until it was perfect.”

“Hmm,” her eyebrows pinched, “Well, there’s nothing I value more than friendship, so I’ll let you two go.” Professor Fernsby looked at them pointedly with one brow raised before adding, “But I trust Mélie will be going back to her own dorm for the night?” She phrased it carefully, more like a question, but the implication made Amicia flush.

“Of course,” Amicia let out quickly, growing hot under her pajamas. “Definitely.”

“Mhm,” she winked, adjusting her glasses. “Then I’ll be seeing you two tomorrow in class. Have a good night.”

And with that, she jumped up on the handrail, using it to slide down the stairs.

“Why did you tell her we were trying to hook up?” Amicia hissed once she was gone.

“Hook up with _guys_ ,” Mélie clarified, pulling up her tank top straps again.

“Same difference.”

“ _Not_ ,” she huffed.

“But _why_?”

Mélie shrugged, and the strap slipped again. She adjusted it with a huff before responding, “My mind blanked.”

“You’re so dumb.”

She gave Amicia a cheeky grin and winked. “Very.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was all typed with one hand (because my dumbass fell rollerskating and fractured my elbow), so there is likely a plethora of spelling and grammatical errors. Feel free to lemme know if you noticed any.


	7. Chapter 7

Christmas season came with a flurry of snowfall, exams, visits to Hogsmeade, and, most notably, Rodric’s discharge from the hospital wing. The first thing he did was give Amicia and Lucas a gentle (as he was still healing), yet firm hug. The second thing was to go out onto the quidditch pitch and hop onto his broom.

\---

Amicia was beginning to think that they would never know who actually tampered with the bludger. No one had come forward with information, and the staff didn't seem too particularly concerned, as no one was pressing charges. But that changed Tuesday afternoon. 

It was the last class of the day, Care of Magical Creatures, and the three of them shared it with the twins. They were in the greenhouse because it had gotten too cold outside, but everyone had managed to space out in their own little groups. Professor Root was going on about Pixies, and Amicia was about ready to pass out from boredom. The twins were joking and teasing with one of their quidditch friends, Sam. While Amicia couldn’t make out much of the conversation, she could tell they were laughing and in good spirits.

She looked over in an attempt to curb her boredom. Sam said something that made Arthur stop laughing and frown, and Mélie clenched her fists, setting her jaw. Sam didn’t seem to notice the change in their body language, and he added something else to his previous statement. Mélie lost it. 

“You’re off the team,” she glowered, her voice much louder and harsher than usual.

His eyes went dark, alarmed. “What?”

“You’re off the team,” she repeated, redder than Amicia had ever seen her. “Fuck off, now, before I knock your teeth in.”

At this point, the class was silent, looking at them in awe. “You can’t do that,” Sam protested.

“Yes she can,” Arthur told him, equally as furious. “She’s captain, so don’t bother coming to the next practice.”

“You can’t-“

“Yes I can,” Mélie repeated, her eyebrows pinched. “And you know what else I can do?” She grabbed her Monster Book Of Monsters from the desk and pulled the belt off quickly, thrusting it into his arms.

Growls, bits of paper and clothing, along with shrieks filled the air. There was chaos, blood, and a few of the Hufflepuffs cried. The greenhouse was evacuated, but luckily, no one but Sam was hurt. 

Professor Root quickly sorted out those involved (or nearby) from the completely innocent bystanders. He then sent Sam with Lucas to the hospital wing. Arthur and Mélie, along with Amicia and Rodric, were dragged off to the headmaster’s office. Something about them being the closest witnesses.

Amicia sunk in the squishy blue armchair that she had been seated in, Rodric in a slightly firmer yellow one to her right. Mélie was to her left, Arthur on Mélie’s other side, both of them sitting in matching red armchairs. They had been waiting in his office for an hour before  Professor Diggins had even come into speak to them. But now that he was there, he was looking at them all, silent. No one dared to break the silence. 

Amicia was just contemplating how the chairs matched their house colors when Rodric cleared his throat. “What’s going on?”

“Ah,” Professor Diggins smiled. “I was afraid you weren’t going to speak, and then we’d just sit for hours.”

“Oh,” Rodric let out awkwardly, scratching his neck uncomfortably. 

“So,” Professor Diggins gazed at Mélie who, unlike the rest of them, was slouched in her seat, “this isn’t any of your first times here.” He looked over at Amicia, suddenly remembering her, “Oh, except for you. Transfer from Beauxbatons, right?” Amicia nodded, and he continued, “So what happened, Mélie? I heard you instigated it.”

She rolled her eyes, fiddling with her blue beaded earring. Her fingers twisted the bead, then twisted the two smaller hoops that went further up her ear. Amicia watched, strangely intrigued.

Finally, Arthur blurted out, “She didn’t start it, sir.”

“Oh?” He raised one eyebrow and leaned forward, his hands folded together. “Would the witnesses corroborate that?”

Amicia and Rodric nodded quickly. “Sam said  _ something _ that upset Mélie.”

“What might that have been?”

“I-“ she swallowed, glancing down at her hands folded in her lap, “I didn’t hear.”

He looked at Arthur. “What did Sam say, Arthur?”

Arthur looked at Mélie and Rodric, and then back down again, his shoulders hunched. “He made fun of Rodric and admitted to tampering with the bludger.”

“I see,” Professor Diggins nodded like he wasn’t surprised. 

Rodric went bright red, his fists clenched. He made a strangled noise, opened and closed his mouth, and just sighed, slumping back in his seat in defeat.

Professor Diggins watched him for a moment to see if Rodric would say anything. When he didn't, he asked calmly, “And why did Mélie get physical?”

Amicia murmured, “He was arguing with her because she kicked him from the quidditch team.”

“I see,” he nodded again, much too calm for Amicia's liking. It was almost on the verge of condescending. “Mélie, assault is a serious offense, punishable by expulsion. What do you have to say?”

“I’m sorry, I guess,” she huffed, her arms crossed over her chest as she sank down in the chair. “But not really. Asshole deserved it.”

“Professor Diggins,” Amicia whispered quietly, pulling on the fraying strings of the armchair, “Mélie never actually touched Sam, nor did she use magic on him. It was all her monster book.” Mélie looked up at her, her eyes wide.

“Hmm,” Professor Diggins smiled slightly, the most emotion Amicia had seen him show. He grabbed a large book from his drawer and flipped through it, his eyes skimming over a page. “The technicalities in this situation mean Mélie never actually assaulted Sam, as she did not use magic or touch him” he looked up, a finger on the page, “so there is no reason for you guys to be here. Off to dinner.”

They all froze. Had that actually worked? There was no way that had worked. 

“Shoo,” he ordered, waving them off as he put the book back. “An investigation will be opened on Sam, but you guys are out of trouble. Now leave so that we can head to dinner.”

Amicia didn’t argue, and the four of them made their way from the office as quickly as possible, Rodric only lagging behind once they were down the stairs. He muttered something about needing to grab a book from his dorm, and they let him go without protest. He clearly needed a moment to be alone. 

Once they had entered the great hall, Mélie took Amicia’s hand and whispered, “Thank you,” before releasing her again and heading to her own table.

\---

When Jean invited Amicia to come with them (them bring everyone she sat with at lunch) to Hogsmeade, she was hesitant to go. She already had a plethora of lame excuses prepared, but Lucas and Rodric heavily encouraged it, though they both had their own reasons for not going. Lucas threatened to not help her study for Arithmancy if she didn't go, so she’d agreed.

It was cold, and she was huddled in her large, fluffy coat, her cheeks pink. She was already regretting her decision to come, as Jean had looped his arm around her’s and was being especially tactile. She hadn’t exactly objected, but she also hadn’t agreed to it. Arthur waggled his eyebrows at her when he saw, but she just rolled her eyes, mouthing  _ No _ .

“Care to join us for Butterbeer?” Jean offered.

Amicia’s nose wrinkled in disgust, and she managed to untangle herself from Jean’s hold. “I have a… strong distaste for that drink, thank you though.”

Arthur’s eyes widened, and he pulled an expression of mock hurt, his hand splayed over his collarbone. “How could you  _ not _ like Butterbeer?”

She shrugged, and Mélie offered, “We could get cider, or something else.”

“No,” Amicia shook her head, “you guys all want Butterbeer.” When they just stood there, she shooed them off. “ _ Go _ .”

“Okay,” Arthur decided, the rest of them turning to go. Mélie hung behind, and Arthur shot the two of them a quick wink before jogging to catch up with the others.

Amicia paused, turning to look at her. “Aren’t you going?”

“Actually,” Mélie smiled, “I’ve been wanting to try ‘The Hogs’ Head In’, heard they have good cider. Care to join me?” She held out her hand for Amicia to take. Amicia eyed it warily. Her strong distaste for Mélie had been on a steady decline since Nicholas had made them work together, but she was still cautious. “I don’t bite,” she smirked when Amicia didn’t respond.

Amicia swallowed her pride and grabbed Mélie’s bare hand with her pink mitten covered one, nodding. They walked through the snow, it crunching beneath her in a satisfying way Amicia really liked, even when her feet got cold. Mélie stopped in front of a dark building and opened the creaky door for her, ushering her inside. It was dimly lit and for the most part, quite empty. They sat down in a small booth, waiting for someone to take their order.

“What would you like?” a droll voice asked.

Amicia looked up suddenly, peeling off her mittens. “Erm, a cider please.”

“And you?” He turned to Mélie, his voice still bored.

“Umm,” she chuckled a little to herself, “Do you guys have Butterbeer?”

He just blinked and then nodded, turning around. “Sure, why not?” he grumbled. He sounded like stranger things than Butterbeer had  _ certainly  _ been requested.

“Thank you,” Mélie called. He ignored them, making his way into the back.

They were silent, looking at the only other people there. An older man sat alone in the corner, gazing off into space. A pair of fourth-years were in another booth, kissing. Mélie leaned over and told her with a hushed snicker, "They look like they're sucking each other's faces off." 

Amicia flushed and tried to advert her eyes until the man reappeared, holding their drinks. She hesitantly took hers, muttering ‘Thank you’ before he disappeared again. She brought the mug to her lips and took a small sip. It was only lukewarm and slightly bitter, but not  _ terrible _ .

Mélie took a swig of her Butterbeer, and her face flashed with an unidentifiable look and then surprise before she swallowed. “Amicia,” she whispered, her voice intent, “I know you don’t like Butterbeer, but you  _ have _ to try this.”

She held out her mug for Amicia. She took it, her fingers brushing against Mélie's. She took a small sip, trying to swallow before sputtering and spitting it out. It was God  _ awful _ , room-temperature, bitter, and too sweet all at once. Mélie was cackling at her reaction, handing her a stack of napkins.

“I knew it was bad, but not  _ that _ bad,” she cackled while Amicia mopped herself up. “Sorry, princess.”

Amicia frowned, taking a napkin to wipe up her lap. “That was rude.” 

“Sorry,” Mélie became solemn, her brows furrowed. She wiped Amicia’s chin and lips before setting the napkin on the table in front of them.

Amicia’s lips twisted up, and she murmured, “Now you have to finish drinking it.”

Mélie looked up, alarmed and disgusted. “You  _ spat _ in it.”

“So?” Amicia grinned. “Drink it. I dare you to.”

Mélie looked at her intently. “Will you be less upset if I do?”

“Most certainly.”

Mélie set her jaw before grabbing the mug, drinking the drink in two gulps, all while staring at Amicia. She swallowed, shuddered, and put it down.

“What do I win?”

Amicia laughed. “My respect.”

\---

Lucas, Amicia, and Rodric were huddled in the library, preparing for exams. They were all intent on their work, the only sound being occasional sighs, pages being flipped, and the scratching of quills on parchment.

“The Gryffindors are having a Christmas party on the tenth,” Lucas informed them nonchalantly, breaking the peaceful silence. 

Amicia and Rodric hardly looked up. “So?”

Lucas sighed, as though it were obvious. “We should go.”

“ _ What _ ?”

Now he had their full, undivided attention. 

“What would possess you to say  _ that _ ?” Amicia probed, suddenly concerned.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged, hunching his shoulders, clearly embarrassed. “I guess I’ve never been to one even though you’ve both invited me, and I just got curious. Also, Emilia is going to be there.”

“I mean,” Rodric toyed with his quill absentmindedly, “if you want to go, we can go.”

“Really?” Lucas lit up, his shoulders no longer hunched. “But do you guys still have a problem with the Cappons?” he blurted out.

Amicia furrowed her eyebrows. “Not particularly. Mélie can be disagreeable, but-“

“They’re not bad,” Rodric cut her off. “I don’t mind going for your sake.”

“Thank you!” Lucas grinned again.

“Heads up, Lucas,” she checked the time, “there’s usually alcohol of some sort that the older students are drinking,” Amicia warned, putting her books away.

“Just say drinking goes against your religion!” Rodric piped up.

Lucas’s eyebrows pinched, and he began packing up as well. “But I’m a devout atheist.”

“But  _ they _ don’t need to know that,” Amicia laughed. 

\---

Amicia still didn’t care much for parties. But at least this one was slightly smaller, seemingly limited to Gryffindors. She was uncertain of how Lucas even knew about it, let alone how they got in. Maybe it was because Jean instantly recognized them and pulled them in, or maybe Emilia had invited Lucas.

But there was a reason the party was more private. There was  _ much  _ more alcohol than usual, something Lucas must not have known, or he would  _ never _ have brought them.

“Are you okay?” she hissed after he’d refused Emilia’s offer of a Firewhiskey. He hadn't done as they’d instructed, instead choosing to say he wouldn't drink while underage. Still, a valid reason that no one would argue. 

“It’s all good,” he murmured when Emilia was  _ certainly _ out of earshot. “It’s not as bad as the movies; she didn’t pressure me to drink it.”

“They usually don’t,” Amicia chuckled, taking his hand, “but let me know as soon as you want to leave.”

“Thank you, Amicia.”

With that, they stuck together, until he allowed himself to be led away by Emilia who wanted to show him a spell. Rodric was long gone, this time with Arthur in the corner, playing a card game with a few sixth-years. 

Jean took the opportunity to come over and offer her a Butterbeer, which she politely took, opting to just hold it. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she flinched and froze, somewhat indifferent to his warmth. She just wanted away. Mélie strolled over, right at that moment, rolling her eyes.

“Dumb dumb, she’s told you a thousand times she doesn’t like Butterbeer.” Mélie grabbed the drink from Amicia, drinking it herself. “She’s said it so much, even  _ I  _ remembered,” She narrowed her eyes at Jean. “Maybe pay attention to your girlfriend, eh?”

Jean frowned and Amicia flushed. “I’m not his girlfriend,” Amicia muttered, stepping out from under his arm and therefore away from him. “I’m not anyone’s anything.”

“Mkay,” Mélie smirked, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess.” 

She turned, walking over to the crowd forming in the center of the room, and Amicia followed. Arthur, Chloe, Annie, Oliver, and about ten other boys and girls were sitting in a circle, the group of students around them waiting expectantly.

“We need two more girls!” Arthur announced. He immediately noticed Mélie and pointed at her. “Mélie and Amicia, come play.”

Mélie was still sober enough to at least ask, “Play what exactly?”

“You’ll see,” he grinned. Mélie hesitantly sat down beside her brother, dragging Amicia along.

Someone opened a bottle, quickly drinking its contents before tossing it at Arthur, who caught it effortlessly. He placed it in the middle and smirked at Mélie.

“My dear sister, we are playing Spin the Bottle.”

Amicia frowned. “What?”

“Spin the Bottle,” he repeated slowly, enunciating carefully. 

When Amicia just blinked, suddenly feeling very stupid, Mélie muttered, “Of course Miss Baguette wouldn’t know.”

“I still know English,” Amicia retorted, her cheeks hot. “And I understand most things, I just don’t understand what that game is, because I’ve never played.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Arthur attempted to amend, motioning with his hands for them to calm down. “I’ll just go over the rules real quick, it’s super simple. You basically just spin the bottle,” he laughed at himself, “and then kiss whoever the bottleneck points at.”

Amicia grimaced. “Like on the cheek?” she asked gently.

“Lips,” Arthur clarified. “Mél will go first and show you.”

Mélie recoiled and then laughed, almost hysterically. “What if it lands on  _ you _ ?”

He frowned, clearly as disgusted as she was. “Exceptions can be made. At least for siblings.”

“Pft,” Mélie picked at a hangnail. “And what if it lands on a girl?”

Arthur smirked, bopping her nose. “Kinda the point, duh.” Mélie pushed him away, and he paused, looking at everyone in the circle. “Is anyone opposed to that?”

Everyone shook their heads slowly, but Mélie frowned. “Well I’m opposed to kissing random people, so I’m done here.”

“Chicken,” Arthur teased, making a clucking noise, flapping his arms like wings. “What a chicken.”

He seemed to know just how to get under her skin because she reached out and spun the bottle. Mélie didn’t wait for it to stop before she grabbed the shirt of the nearest person (some sixth-year girl Amicia didn’t even know the name of) and kissed her on the lips, all in one smooth motion. There was stunned silence from everyone, especially the girl, followed by nervous laughter. 

The room erupted, and Mélie hissed to Arthur as she stood up, “Happy now?”

He smiled sweetly. “Tickled pink.”

Amicia looked down and swallowed. The bottleneck was pointing at her.

\---

Chloe was gone from their potions class for good, and Amicia was now Mélie’s new permanent partner. It worked well enough, though Amicia missed working with Lucas. But he seemed more than content on his own, only sad because Amicia was.

That day, Nicholas had drilled into their heads the dangers of love potions and how they could possibly be fatal. 

“The victim’s infatuation could be so strong,” he grinned, “that they may risk their lives for you. Or even end it. But,” Nicholas looked at them all intently, his gaze choosing to land on Mélie, who, for the first time ever, actually seemed to be listening, “no wizard or witch has managed to create a truly unbreakable, eternal, unconditional attachment that many of us call  _ love _ .”

Lucas meekly raised his hand. Nicholas pointed his wand at him, and Lucas spoke up. “Seeing the Ashwater eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, and Moonstone, is it safe for me to assume we are making Amortentia?”

Nicholas grinned. “You’re absolutely correct. Five points to Ravenclaw,” Lucas flushed, and he continued, “You will each be making your own batch of Amortentia. Feel free to collaborate with your table partner, but I’d prefer to see what you can do on your own.” Everyone sat up in their seats, and he added, “And as much as I’d love to see what twenty students would do with love potions, due to an…  _ incident _ last year, you will not be keeping them.”

A few girls sighed, and Mélie rolled her eyes. She leaned over and whispered to Amicia, “Some people really think they’re gonna make a successful love potion, huh?”

She chuckled, and Nicholas glared. “Amorentia is one of the least dangerous love potions. It only smells of what attracts you. I for one smell parchment, coffee, and the tears of students.” Amicia couldn’t tell if that last part was a joke or not, and before she could decide, he told them, “You may be a little surprised about what you smell, but keep calm. It will have been something that has attracted you for at  _ least  _ a few months, so you likely won’t be surprised. Good luck.”

The half-hour passed in silence, without any difficulties. Neither Mélie nor Amicia required the other’s assistance, so they were comfortable in silence, occasionally asking the other to borrow ingredients. Then came the waiting. The potion required fifteen minutes of simmering before it was usable. 

Mélie had plenty of comments to make, but Amicia was starting to tune them out. It was impossible to listen because the whole room smelled strongly of perfumes and fragrances she couldn’t quite name.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Amicia carefully lifted the lid from her cauldron, wafting the smell up to her nose with a gentle swirling motion. The aroma was utterly intoxicating and addictive, and she quickly realized why the professor had warned them about how dangerous this could be. 

She gently placed the lid back on and regained control of her senses before opening it again and attempting to discern what all made up the wonderful fragrance.

The threat of a looming thunderstorm. That one was a given. Who  _ didn’t  _ like the smell of rain?

Another wafting motion and deep inhale. Hogsmeade village, specifically butterbeer. No, that couldn’t be right. She  _ hated _ butterbeer. Why would it be in her Amortentia, a potion that was supposed to smell like what she was attracted to? And why did it smell so pleasant?

She inhaled one last time. 

Spices, specifically cinnamon. 

_ Cinnamon _ . 

_ Fuck. _

Amicia dropped the lid with a  _ clatter _ , quickly masking the smell of the potion. No one noticed, except for Mélie and Lucas, who shot her questioning glances.

Her complexion lost all of its rosiness, and she took in a few deep, shuddering breaths. Mélie leaned across the lab table, delidding Amicia’s cauldron and sniffing, as though she’d be able to smell what Amicia could. She held her breath, waiting to breathe once Mélie had shut it again. 

“What does it smell like?” she asked curiously. She finally put the lid back on, and Amicia took a deep breath. 

But she could still smell the rain and cinnamon. Mélie needed to get out of her space,  _ now _ .

Amicia forced a small smile and responded, “Just mint, cider, and…” she hesitated, “Jean’s cologne.” 

“Hmm,” Mélie retreated back to her space, her eyebrows pinched. “Interesting combination.” She stirred her potion slowly. “Mine smells like fresh laundry and leaves.”

“Did I ask?” Amicia snapped. She immediately wanted to take back her words, but she decided to ignore the guilt welling up in her throat. It wasn’t hard to. Because it was buried under a feeling of disappointment.

Disappointment that her potion just smelled like fresh laundry and leaves. Although she wasn’t entirely certain  _ what _ she wanted it to smell like, it wasn’t that.

\---

People are obsessed with labels and finding a sense of identity, a simple fact that Amicia knew. If you can just  _ identify  _ how you’re feeling. If you can just explain  _ what  _ your sexuality is. If you can just explain  _ why _ you’re feeling the way you are.

Amicia hated it. 

Some things are just nonsensical. Some things just can't be labeled. But despite this, Amicia was searching for an explanation for the Amortentia potion. She must have added one too many rose thorns, not enough water, or perhaps one of Mélie’s hairs had somehow fallen into the cauldron.

Sure, Lucas’s potion had also smelled like cinnamon, but it was fine. It would _all_ be fine. She was straight, she did _not_ like Mélie, and it was all a fluke.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

She could practically hear Mélie saying with a teasing smirk on her face, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy almost Valentine's day!! If no one bought you chocolate, buy some for yourself. Or maybe you don't like chocolate, or you're lactose intolerant. If that's the case... damn that kinda sucks. Get yourself flowers or something, or replay Plague Tale for the God knows how manyith time.


	8. Chapter 8

Her mild panic attack after brewing the potion had mostly subdued. Lucas had agreed that adding the wrong ingredients could  _ possibly  _ affect how it turned out. Not very likely, but there was a possibility.

Amicia clung to that possibility like it was the God-sent truth.

Sure, her voice gave out a lot every time she spoke to Mélie. Sure, she’d found a lot of ways to  _ accidentally  _ bump into her, yet avoid her all at once. And yes, she did feel like someone poured glue and sawdust on her tongue every time she spoke to Mélie or someone spoke  _ about  _ Mélie, but it was slowly getting better.

Those types of things all passed eventually.

\---

“We’re staying at Hogwarts for Christmas,” Mélie told her randomly during Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Oh?” Amicia tilted slightly so that she wasn’t hunched over her notes, now looking at Mélie.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Mélie shrugged. “We just are.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Amicia quirked an eyebrow and smiled down at her notes, though it was directed towards Mélie.

“Dunno.”

\---

With that, her mind was made up. She was staying for Christmas. Was that what Mélie was wanting when she told Amicia she was staying? Probably not, but Amicia didn’t care. 

She was already considering staying, just for some extra credit opportunities. Now she just needed to break the news to her parents and ask for permission.

Amicia frowned. She could just use her cell phone, though if Hugo got to Béatrice’s phone first (as he often did) he wouldn’t answer, or answer and immediately hang up. He seemed to find that hilariously amusing recently. She could always use the one in the Ravenclaw common room. Sure, it was ancient, but he wouldn’t recognize the number. 

Amicia made her way downstairs. It was six, and most other students were asleep or in their rooms getting ready, but it would be seven in Bordeaux, and Béatrice got up early. If she was lucky, Hugo would be asleep, and Béatrice would answer her call. She picked up the phone, spinning the dial a few times. She had to redial twice before she heard a click and ringing. She stopped, picked it up, and placed it next to her ear.

“Hi! Who’s this?”

“Hi, Hugo!” Amicia paused, praying he wouldn’t end the call. “How are you?”

“Amicia?”

“Yup, buddy.”

“Amicia!” he squealed. “How are you? What are you doing? How are your friends?”

She smiled. She could hear him jumping up and down on the other side of the phone, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood. “Everything’s great, but I need to speak to mummy.”

“Can we play our game, please?”

Amicia sighed. She knew he wouldn’t put Béatrice on the phone until she did. “Which game?”

“What If.”

“Okay,” Amicia slid to the floor. This would take a while.

“I’ll start!” he chirped. “What if I took your fingers?”

This was all familiar to her. He loved what-ifs, but he loved one-upping her even more. They would go until the what-ifs became so outlandish that one of them (usually Amicia) had to give up and say what they’d do if  _ it  _ happened. 

“What if I took your eyes before you took my fingers?”

“Oh yeah?” he giggled, still jumping from the sounds of it, “Well, what if I took your arms?” 

Amicia smiled. She could get behind his outlandish ideas this time. “What if I took your legs?” 

“What if I sucked you into a black hole?”

Amicia didn’t question the physics and retorted, “What if I sucked you in with me?”

He paused, humming. “What if you were killed by a meteor before you could suck me in?”

“What if you were on the moon?”

“What if I got a  _ super _ bright light and made everyone blind?”

Amicia looked down at her phone, checking the time. He needed to hurry. “Then I wouldn’t see you,” Amicia told him, ready to give up.

“Oh… yeah.” Despite Amicia’s defeat, he wasn’t ready to quit. “Well, what if I killed that whole village?”

“Which one?”

“The hog one you wrote mummy and daddy about.”

“I’d be sad,” Amicia told him.

“Oh.” There was silence on his end of the line. “Well, do I win?”

“Only if you put mummy on the phone.”

“But,” Hugo sighed, “I wanted to ask about your friends and magic and know if it actually rains all of the time.” He paused again. “And I wanted to hear about your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have one, Hugo,” Amicia laughed, “And I’ll answer all of your questions later. Just give mum the phone.”

“Fine.” 

It was silent for a while, and Amicia was beginning to worry he had hung up when she heard someone pick up the receiver. “Amicia?”

“Mum?”

“Hi, darling! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Amicia promised. Why did she always think something was wrong?

Amicia didn’t realize she’d vocalized that last part until Béatrice said, “You don’t call unless something is wrong.”

“I called you last week.”

“Yes, about Amortentia potion and if it could be messed up somehow.” Amicia flushed, remembering how she had called Béatrice in a frenzy, asking if it could somehow smell like something she didn’t like. “You call when you  _ need  _ something.”

She just laughed, resting her head on the wall. “I’m fine, mum. It’s just about coming home for Christmas.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“What?” Amicia could practically see Béatrice pacing around the kitchen, likely slicing Hugo apple slices at the same time. “Why not?”

“Well,” Amicia coiled the phone cord around her finger, “one of my friends will be at Hogwarts all alone.”

“Hmm,” Béatrice hummed, “What if they stayed with us?”

“Well, remember my potions professor?”

“Yeah?”

Her mind was racing, and she let out, “I-I’m not doing well in his class, and he’s having me and her stay for an extra credit opportunity because she’s my partner in that class.” It was only a half-lie. Other teachers  _ were _ offering extra credit, just not for that class.

“Oh,” Amicia could hear the disappointment in her voice, “Is this the difference between you passing and failing?”

She frowned and swallowed. “Sorta… I just,” Amicia sighed, pinching the cord between her forefinger and thumb, “I don’t want her to be here all alone with her brother, and I just have a lot of schoolwork, and-“

“It’s okay, Amicia,” Béatrice murmured. “No one should be alone on Christmas, and I want you to do well in school.”

“So I can stay?” she asked softly.

“Yes, under one condition,” Béatrice paused, making sure she was listening, “You have to call us every day, not just because you need something.”

“I will, promise.”

“I will send a howler if you don’t,” Béatrice threatened, laughing.

“I know you will,” Amicia stood up, ready to hang up the phone. “Thank you, and I’ll miss you.”

“And Amicia?”

“Yeah?”

“Please be safe.”

She chuckled. “What do you mean? Hogwarts is perfectly safe.”

“No,” Béatrice hesitated and cleared her throat. “With guys. I know over Christmas they don’t really monitor who sleeps where and what happens-“

Amicia cackled, grateful Béatrice couldn’t see how red she was, or how terribly wrong her assumption was. “I’m not dating anyone or anything, and nothing like  _ that _ is happening.”

“Oh,” Béatrice sighed, relieved, “Okay, good. Well, call us. I love you.”

“I love you too. Hugs for Hugo and dad.”

\---

“I’m staying for Christmas,” Amicia informed Mélie nonchalantly in potions.

“Oh?” Her eyebrows shot up behind her messy hair. She swept it out of her face quickly with her clean hand.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Amicia shrugged. “Studying and stuff. My parents were worried it would be too hard for me to get back home.”

“Hmm,” Mélie’s mouth tilted up slightly. If she could sense the lie, she didn’t say so. “And why are you telling me this?” she probed innocently.

“Just am.”

\---

“You’re crazy,” Rodric informed her solemnly when she told him she was staying for Christmas. “The kids who stay for Christmas either have no home or stay to hook up with people.” He frowned, pinching his eyebrows. “Or both.”

“It’s not that bad,” Amicia chuckled. “I don’t even know anyone else that's staying.”

“The Cappons are,” Lucas told her. “Emilia told me.”

Rodric turned to Amicia, his eyes comically wide. “Those are the exact kids I’m talking about!”

“How could they be staying for…  _ that _ if no one else is staying?” Amicia pointed out.

“No, not for  _ that _ ,” Rodric sighed. “Because they have no family.”

Amicia was now the one frowning, suddenly feeling oddly defensive. “How do you know? That’s a bold assumption.”

Both Lucas and Rodric shifted uncomfortably. “Amicia,” Lucas murmured, “They stay for Christmas every year. It’s no secret.”

“So? It doesn’t mean anything.” But she knew it did. No one stayed at school for Christmas just  _ because _ . But the implication made her stomach boil, so she chose to pretend them staying every Christmas wasn’t a guarantee that their family was broken in some way.

“Okay,” Lucas sighed. “They probably don’t want to talk about it anyway.”

“Families are complex,” Rodric suggested weakly. “It could mean nothing.”

“Exactly.”

“If it means anything, I wish I could stay and study,” Lucas looked down, kicking the floor, “But Laurentius wants me home, at least for Christmas.”

“Maybe next year,” Amicia smiled, grateful for the change in topic.

\---

Amicia, Arthur, and Mélie all went down to the station to say goodbye. They were the only Ravenclaws and Gryffindors staying behind. A few Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were as well, but nobody they knew. 

“Bye Rodric!” Mélie smiled sweetly at him, and Arthur snickered. “We will miss you!” He blushed and ducked his head back inside the train, bumping it as he did so. Lucas continued waving politely until the train had left the platform.

“Now,” Arthur grinned and looped one arm around Amicia’s once the train was out of view. This action would make her stiffen with Jean, but with Arthur it just felt friendly, “the fun can begin.”

Amicia smiled and turned around. Mélie was following silently. “Mél, you excited?” Arthur called.

“Oh yes, for sure. Christmas at Hogwarts  _ again _ ,” she drolled, her hands shoved deep in her pockets.

“Hey,” he stopped, frowned, and used his free arm to grab his sister, “the food is awesome, we can do whatever the hell we want, and Amicia is here. This’ll be fun.”

Mélie smiled a little. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

He turned his attention to Amicia. “What do you say, since my sister is such a sourpuss?”

“I intend on studying, not partying.”

“You’re boring,” Arthur sighed dramatically. He lit up again, and Amicia could see the cogs turning in his brain. “But Mélie will make you change your mind,” he winked.

Mélie stiffened and flushed, and Amicia chuckled. “Maybe.”


	9. Chapter 9

Amicia held true to her promise that she would do schoolwork. She was sitting in the Ravenclaw common room, studying. The fire crackling in the background and the Lofi Hip Hop playing softly from her phone created the perfect ambiance. Arthur was disappointed when they got back to the castle and immediately left to study, but Mélie didn’t seem to mind much. And that was fine with Amicia.

The mood was peaceful, and she was plowing through homework until the door swung open to the common room. She looked up, alarmed, to see Arthur grinning cheekily, and Mélie looking mildly annoyed. She just always looked like that, unless something happened to spark her interest, so Amicia didn’t chalk it up to actual annoyance.

“How’d you get in here?” Amicia shot up, her books landing on the floor with a clatter.

“Easy,” Mélie smirked, walking over to help her pick up the fallen books. “Just answered the riddle.”

“They’re not supposed to be easy,” Amicia frowned even though she was trying not to smile.

Arthur walked over, plopping down on the couch. “Really? Because ours was: _I have cities, but no houses_ ,” he began, perfectly mimicking the eagle knockers' low, gravelly tone, " _I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?_ And I just sat there, but Mélie,” he prodded her in the side, "immediately spoke up."

“And what was the answer?”

“A map,” Mélie grumbled. “Your tower’s not too secure, if you ask me.”

“She didn’t,” Arthur told her cheerily. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re wondering what we are doing.” He paused, perhaps waiting for a dramatic ‘Yes! What _are_ you doing ?’ When Amicia didn’t supply it, he told her, “Mélie wanted to see you, so we came to kidnap you.”

“And take me where?”

“Gryffindor common room,” Mélie supplied.

Amicia paused, staring at the pile of work. She then stood up and smiled, grabbing an essay and quill. “Sure, why not.”

She could do schoolwork in the Gryffindor common room anyway.

\---

They didn’t do anything _too_ exhilarating. Arthur mainly just showed them spells he had picked up outside of school, and they ate way too many sweets. When Arthur offered her a Firewhiskey she (stupidly) took it. She only drank a few sips before the tears started rolling down her cheeks, and she was forced to put it down.

Mélie cackled at her and finished the drink for her, all in a few gulps. Amicia just smiled and shrugged, and the next Firewhiskey Arthur handed her, she _slowly_ sipped. 

She _tried_ doing homework, but Arthur made grabby crab hands (heavily reminding her of Hugo when he wanted her phone) and she was forced to relinquish her schoolwork. She’d be lucky if she ever _saw_ that essay again.

Nothing even noteworthy happened until Arthur went to bed (the old man he seemed to be), Mélie went to the bathrooms to shower, and Amicia remembered she was supposed to call her parents hours ago.

“It’s twelve here, Amicia,” Robert sighed as soon as he picked up the phone. She could hear the fan blowing in the background, meaning he was already in bed.

“Oh sorry, I forgot,” Amicia whispered, hoping not to wake him more.

“It’s fine,” he yawned, and she could hear his jaw crack. “Your mother is asleep.”

“Sorry,” Amicia apologized again. “I’ll hang up.”

“It’s fine,” he repeated, sounding more alert. “How was your day? Tell me everything, I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

So Amicia gave him the rundown (blatantly leaving out the Firewhiskey and some of the spells Arthur probably shouldn’t have known). He chuckled softly at all of the right parts like he always did. By the time she was done, he sounded ready to pass out.

“Amicia!” Mélie called from upstairs. She peeked over the banister, a towel in her wet hair. She had already gotten dressed for bed, wearing black gym shorts and a white tank top.

“Someone’s calling for you,” Robert informed her, as though she wasn’t aware, “I better go. Love you.”

“Love you too.” She heard a click and the line went dead.

“Amicia?” Mélie was standing beside her now, and it was nearly impossible to ignore the strange bubbling that mere proximity to Mélie brought. “Who was that? Boyfriend?” She pulled the towel from her hair, holding it limply at her side. Now that they were closer, Amicia realized her tank top had a small Gryffindor crest embroidered above her chest.

“Dad,” Amicia smiled.

Mélie frowned. “Then why’d you say ‘I love you'?”

Amicia smiled, waiting for the punchline that didn’t come. “What do you mean? He’s my dad.”

“Oh,” she nodded as though she understood, and they made their way up the stairs. “I don’t call my dad much.” Mélie tossed her hair towel on the floor and flopped down on her bed. After a moment of hesitation, Amicia lay beside her.

“What about your mum?” 

They were facing each other, so Mélie couldn’t hide her pained expression.

“Dead.” 

“Oh.” Amicia sighed, because what else could she have done? “Does that have anything to do with why you stayed for Christmas?”

Mélie looked at her strangely, like she was the first person to ask rather than just assume. And maybe she was. She just stared, her cheek squished by the pillow, her scar momentarily hidden.

“Do you want to know?” she asked reverently.

Amicia shrugged one shoulder, the pillow beneath her scrunching up. “If you want to share.”

And like that, Mélie began her spiel. “They met and married young. Had me and Arthur. Then mum just died. It was sudden, most people don’t die from the flu. My dad couldn’t cope, drank himself into oblivion. Hogwarts has been our home since, and we stay here all year other than over the summer.”

The words spilled from her mouth quickly, like Mélie had explained a thousand times, perhaps even in front of an audience. But the way she examined her nails, as though she was bored, felt faux. It felt faux because Amicia could hear the tightness and hurt in her voice. The kind that meant she was trying not to cry.

She didn’t know what to say. Mélie didn’t seem the type to want her condolences, so she just whispered, “They must have really loved each other.”

“No,” Mélie frowned, looking up from whatever was so intriguing about her nails. “Love is just another diagnosis.”

“Hm?” 

Amicia merely stared at her, and Mélie continued, her voice bitter, “It’s like a tumor. You have to cut it out before you fucking die.”

Amicia would have laughed if Mélie’s voice wasn’t so serious, her eyes so intent. “What about those who are never cured?” Amicia stretched her legs under the covers, and her feet brushed against Mélie’s shin, but Mélie didn’t pull back.

“Their immune systems are just weak.”

“So you plan on just never falling in love?” Amicia asked, incredulous.

“Precisely.”

“You plan on never kissing anyone, aside from stupid party games?”

“Yup.”

Amicia paused, suddenly feeling daring. “You don’t really think love is just a disease.” She noticed how Mélie’s breathing sped up, the most visceral reaction she’d gotten from her. And despite laying down, Mélie was able to get into a defensive posture. “You’re scared of loving someone so much and then they leave you. You’re scared of being vulnerable.” 

And maybe she shouldn’t have been saying that. Maybe Mélie would just get annoyed or push her away. But the bit of Firewhiskey she had was just enough to take off her edge, and it was too late to retract the words.

“Hmm?” Mélie resumed her normal breathing and quirked an eyebrow, giving her a challenging look. ‘Oh yeah?’ she seemed to say.

“You’re scared of putting yourself out there, only to get hurt,” Amicia murmured, her breath soft against Mélie’s face, her cheek squished by the pillow.

“Am not.” She sat up in the bed defensively.

“Are too.” Amicia sat up as well.

“Am not.” Mélie’s eyes were burning. Amicia’s lit up.

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

Amicia smiled. “Kiss me.”

Mélie froze but quickly regained herself, now smirking. “You want me to kiss you, princess?”

She didn’t let her gaze waver from Mélie’s. “Yes. _Prove_ you’re not afraid.”

She flicked her eyes down to Amicia’s lips and looked back up again. “That’s a stupid way to prove it.”

Amicia inched forward until she could feel loose strands of Mélie’s hair tickle her cheek. “You’re scared.”

“No.” But Mélie looked scared, subtly trying to inch away.

“Do it.”

Something flashed in her eyes, a quick but bright spark, and Mélie stopped inching away. She set her jaw and swallowed, the lump in her throat rising and falling. Amicia risked a glance downwards at Mélie’s lips. They were parted slightly, and Amicia knew without knowing what her answer was. 

“Fine.”

That was the only official warning Amicia got before a warm hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her forward. Amicia didn’t even have a chance to shut her eyes before there was an explosion of softness on her lips, the aroma of cinnamon and rain quickly inundating her senses, blocking out anything that wasn’t Mélie against her.

But just as quickly as she had pulled her in, she pushed away, and Amicia was left blinking stupidly, her lips tingling with a strange electricity.

“Told ya,” Mélie smirked triumphantly, licking her lips quickly. “Not scared.”

Amicia just breathed, every inch of her burning with a strange lightness.

“But you don’t like me, so it doesn’t really count,” Amicia said after a long moment. She ran her tongue over her lips, trying to remember exactly what Mélie had felt and tasted like.

“Still.” She paused thoughtfully, her brows creasing, “You asked for it, so don’t file some sexual harassment thing or tell the prefects.”

“I won’t,” Amicia lifted her right hand above her head, as though swearing an oath. “I did it willingly.”

“Yeah?” Mélie held out her palm, facing upwards, holding an imaginary bible.

Amicia rested her hand on top of it, her fingers warm. “I swear, your honor.”

Mélie’s face was unidentifiable, and then her lips twisted up into a small smile.

They both burst into a fit of giggles until they were laying back against the bed, clutching their sides and staring up at the red canopy. Amicia had never heard Mélie laugh much other than a chuckle, or, as was often the case, sarcastically, but it made something warm settle in her chest, and she smiled.

Mélie looked over at her and sat up suddenly, her eyes alert. She looked around the room and then back at Amicia. Amicia sat up as well, the warmth in her stomach replaced with cool dread.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Mélie nodded, “But can I show you something?”

She blinked, feeling very stupid. “I-I mean… sure?”

Mélie grinned, reaching for her wand. “My patronus.”

“What?”

“Pa-tron-us,” she repeated slowly, enunciating each syllable like Amicia was partially deaf.

“Oh,” was all she managed. She knew what they were; older students loved to show them off in the common rooms, but hearing it come from Mélie made it hard to understand for some reason.

“Yeah. My mum taught me how.” She pulled out her wand and took a deep breath, shutting her eyes. She opened them after a long moment and let out softly, “Expecto patronum.”

Amicia wasn’t entirely sure what she was expecting, but when light spilled from her wand, wisping in the air around them like fireflies, Amicia watched, entranced. They danced in the air around her, coming together. Slowly, something began to take shape, and Amicia recognized it to be a fox. Mélie set down her wand and reclined against her pillow as the small fox jumped up on her bed. As it did so, it left a trail of blue light shimmering behind it. It yawned and stretched out before curling up by their feet, slowly fading away.

But Amicia didn’t watch that closely. Instead, she kept glancing over at Mélie, her eyes glowing in the blue and white light. 

Mélie looked over at her, grinning. “Isn’t that neat?” she asked eagerly when the light had finally faded away.

“Yeah,” she breathed. But her breathing stopped when Mélie reached over and grabbed Amicia’s wand, placing it in her hand.

“You try.”

“Okay.” She held her wand cluelessly, the wooden vines and flowers brushing against her thumb. When Mélie just stared, she asked, “What do I do?”

“Oh,” Mélie realized. “Umm,” she chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “Think of your happiest memory.”

“Like what?”

“One that makes you happy.”

Amicia sighed. “What did you think of?”

Mélie’s face was unidentifiable again. She slumped over, closing her eyes. Finally, she murmured, “My mum.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Mélie sat back up and forced a crooked smile. “It’s fine. Now you try.”

“Okay.” She inhaled, readjusted her grip, and closed her eyes, conjuring a memory. 

The Aquitaine countryside during the early spring, fields bright and colorful with the new blossoms filled her mind. Hugo ran ahead of her, and her arms were outstretched. He was giggling hysterically, and she was chasing him, the long grass tickling her legs. Amicia finally caught up to him and tackled him, tumbling to the ground. The air was knocked out of her lungs, but Hugo was giggling beneath her.

She opened her eyes and turned to her side, rolling off of him. A brown field mouse was right beside her head. Instead of shrieking, she froze, and it froze, only it’s whiskers trembling. It opened and shut its big, black eyes, before turning and scampering away.

Amicia opened her eyes again and reclined back beside Mélie, waving her wand almost lazily. “Expecto patronum.”

The light was thin and feeble at first, wispy and transparent. But like Mélie’s, it slowly took shape. A small, field mouse. It ran through the air, running over the covers until it was between their heads. It stopped and just stared at Amicia, its whiskers quivering, before running and jumping off the bed where it disappeared.

“Nice,” Mélie whispered, looking at her. Her eyes were cloudy with sleep but bright with awe. “Most people don’t do that well on their first try.”

“Thank you.”

Unsure of what else to say, Amicia shifted slightly, placing her hand between her cheek and the pillow. Mélie shut her eyes and mumbled, “I’m about to pass out.”

She watched Mélie melt against the bed before sitting up, straightening her shirt. “Sleep well.” Amicia walked to the stairs, getting ready to go back to her dormitory.

“Wait,” she sat up, a little more alert. Amicia hummed, one hand on the handrail, and Mélie informed her, “Your dorm is empty. So is mine,” she looked around, reaching for her words. “So would you maybe want to… to stay?”

Amicia wished she would do the responsible, Amicia-like thing, and choose to go back to her dorm where she belonged. Her hand was on the handrail. She just needed to go down the stairs, and then she wouldn’t even consider it.

Amicia hoped she would do something a little unlike herself and choose to stay, because of weird warmth and lightness that made her want to giggle nervously intensified around Mélie, and she was left just trying to breathe. If she could just _breathe,_ that would have been enough.

“I don’t have pajamas in here,” was what she managed.

Mélie smiled, pointing to her bedside table. “You can wear something of mine.”

She swallowed. She hadn’t said no. “Okay,” she decided, pulling open the drawer. Amicia rifled through it, grabbing a random hoodie. It was one of those hoodies that would be oversized on Mélie, and therefore ginormous on her.

She went into the bathroom and pulled off her jeans and t-shirt, electing to sleep with her bralette on. Amicia knew she wasn’t _supposed_ to do that, but one night wouldn’t - shouldn’t - kill her.

Mélie’s hoodie smelled exactly like her other one, and the fabric reached her upper thigh. It was soft, and she would have been content just curling up in it and sleeping on the bathroom floor. The right shoulder continuously slipped off no matter how many times she readjusted it, and she sighed in defeat. It was fine.

She walked out of the bathroom. Mélie had gotten out a sketchbook and was looking at it intently. Amicia tried not to stare at her collarbone and the strip of skin by her hip that was revealed by the short top, but it was hard not to.

She looked up, noticing Amicia’s return from the bathroom. “I like your bra,” Mélie smirked. Amicia’s skin heated, and she tugged up on the shoulder of the hoodie, trying to cover her lacey, white bralette strap.

Mélie turned back to the sketchbook. Amicia stretched until her back cracked and made her way onto the bed closest to Mélie, facing her. Her cheek hit the cool pillow, strands of flyaway hair getting in her eyes.

“Why are you in Chloe’s bed?” Mélie looked up from her doodling and looked over at Amicia.

“Where else would I sleep?” Amicia asked.

“I don’t know,” she turned back to the drawing, “but Chloe wouldn’t appreciate you in her bed.”

Amicia felt a growing sense of irritation, or maybe stress. Perhaps it was the way Mélie wasn’t looking at her as she spoke or the fact she didn’t offer a solution, but she sat up, annoyed. “While where do you want me to sleep?” she snapped. “In your bed?”

“Sure,” Mélie shrugged nonchalantly, as though that were just one of the _many_ solutions available, but it would work fine enough. “That wouldn’t upset anyone if you were in my bed.”

Amicia groaned and got up, flopping next to Mélie. She was mildly aggravating, but that was always overwhelmed by the little tug in her gut, the small flicker she got when she was around her.

“Princess?” Mélie murmured reverently, placing the sketchbook on her nightstand.

“Yeah?” Amicia leaned forward.

Her eyes didn’t leave Amicia’s face before asking, “Are you wearing pants?”

She flushed further. _Just breathe_. “You didn’t have any in that drawer, and I… No.”

Mélie chuckled, her lips twisting up. “It’s fine, that shirt is huge on you, may as well be a dress.” She paused, her eyes tracing Amicia’s face. “Will you be keeping this one too?”

Amicia hummed. “Possibly, if you irritate me. You won’t have any clothing left.”

She quirked an eyebrow, her mouth tilting up even more. “Do you intend on doing this often?”

Amicia shrugged, shifting the pillow slightly. “Sleepovers with friends are nice.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

“I didn’t go home for Christmas break because of you,” Amicia chuckled, “and I’m choosing to spend my time with you. I’d say we are at least friends.”

Mélie smirked, and Amicia sensed she had said something she wasn’t supposed to. 

“You stayed for me?”

And it was obvious Mélie was trying to tease, trying to get her to blush again, but there was a note of genuine awe, appreciation, and a small bit of hope that seeped through, unable to be masked by her snarkiness.

Amicia didn’t respond, she just swallowed.

“Nice.” Mélie flipped over, shutting her eyes, satisfied with the non-verbal confirmation silence brought. She brushed her fingers over her lips and scar before murmuring, “Nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I won’t be posting as much because of academic decathlon regionals coming up, and iM rEsPoNSibLe.
> 
> Also me: watches studio ghibli and owl house and writes every spare moment I have because it’s how I alleviate stress.
> 
> Anygay, I hope you guys enjoyed!
> 
> ...also don't be stupid and drink underage


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